Haunted
by smuffly
Summary: A simple act of kindness and an unexpected friendship. Who could have foreseen the consequences? Set in Season 3.
1. Chapter 1

**HAUNTED**

**A/N: **There are two strands to this story. The italics signify Adam's present situation and the standard type is the past.

'Haunted' is set in the middle of Season Three. The rest of the team aren't in it at first, but don't worry - they're vital to the story and will start to appear after the first two chapters.

To begin with, I'll probably update this every other day.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Adam, or CSI:NY. Sad, but true. I just like to play in their playground.

**Chapter One**

_**Now...**_

_'Open your eyes...'_

_The voice kept nudging at his brain, like a mouse with a strange piece of cheese. Adam nudged back._

_'Just a couple more minutes,' he told it. Sleep still clung to him and his thoughts were sluggish. Yesterday must have really taken it out of him. Odd that he couldn't remember it, though..._

_'No,' the voice insisted. 'Now.'_

_Obediently, Adam opened one eye, just a crack, expecting to see the early morning sunlight casting its usual fractured pattern across his bedroom walls._

_But he wasn't in bed._

_Nor was he even in his own apartment._

_No comfortable mattress or lumpy sofa cushions lay beneath him. Moving his fingertips around nervously, he encountered what felt like linoleum. It was worn, and full of holes. Breathing in sharply, he found that the air around him was stale, with a hint of brick dust and mouldy plaster._

_Adam opened both eyes wide and stared._

_The darkness stared back, closer than a veil. He could almost feel it pressing against his skin._

_'Not good,' said the helpful voice in his head._

_And the old familiar panic began to creep in._

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**Then...**

The first time he saw the girl, she was playing all by herself on an abandoned building site, not far from his apartment. Wrapped up warmly against the cold winter evening, she perched on top of a mound of soil and dirt like a tiny goblin, tossing stones down into the puddle below. As they disappeared from sight, she leaned over and concentrated. If he listened very carefully, he could just make out her quiet voice, counting the ripples. When the last ring reached the edge of the filthy pool, she leaned back, satisfied, and felt around her for another stone. It was an absorbing game, and one that she had clearly been playing for quite some time. Adam smiled.

Dawdling slowly past the fence, he continued to watch the girl. He couldn't help himself. Part of him wanted to sneak through a gap in the wire and join her. _You're such a child,_ he sighed, shifting the strap of his messenger bag as he clutched his jacket collar even more tightly around his neck. Snow was coming. He could feel it - and he hated it. The chill got into his bones and made him shiver. Just looking at the stuff through the window made him want to run for a scarf.

_Why did I move to New York?_ he wondered, peering up at the heavy grey sky just visible past the rooftops.

He was startled out of his reverie by an unexpected cry. The girl on the mound had leaned out too far and now she tumbled downwards, head over heels, unable to stop herself. It wasn't far, but the puddle was in her path. She landed on her side and water rolled out of the ditch in all directions, displaced and seething.

"Hey!" cried Adam, seeing her woebegone face. He threw his bag aside and dragged his body through the nearest tear in the fence. "Don't worry - I'm coming."

"I'm all wet," said a miserable voice. He skidded to a halt beside the puddle.

"Are you hurt?" he asked her gently, dropping to his knees. Both arms reached out to help her and she clung to them as he hauled her from the water. The ditch was deeper than he had expected. Mud and silt ran over his sneakers, soaking them through, but Adam didn't notice. The girl was young, and scared, and trembling. _What do I do now?_ he thought in dismay, as she wormed her way into his arms, seeking comfort. He patted her back. "It's okay. Just a shock, that's all, I guess. Do you live nearby?"

A white face and two green eyes stared directly at him. "Round the corner."

Adam was relieved. "Is your mom there?" Looking back at her, he knew that she couldn't possibly be more than ten or eleven.

"She's resting." The girl shook her head and water fell across his face like raindrops. Her red hair was long and usually full of curls, he could tell. Right now, though, it looked more like... _tangled spaghetti,_ Adam grinned. _Dripping with tomato sauce._ He stood up, raising the girl along with him. Then, overcome with awkwardness, he let go.

"Shall I help you get home?"

"No, thanks." Again, she shook her head. "I'm all right. I'll go by myself." She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not s'posed to talk to strangers."

"Very wise," he nodded, stepping back politely. The girl bent down and rubbed at her knee where the gravel had ripped through her black woollen tights.

"That looks sore," said Adam.

The girl bit her lip.

Shuffling forwards, she started to walk away. He watched her limp for a little while, until she reached the fence. By then, his mind was made up. He hurried to help her, lifting the wire aside as she slipped through easily. Adam followed, with far less grace.

"Please - I'd like to make sure you get home safely." His blue eyes narrowed, laughter lines appearing at the corners, as he tried to convince her of his harmless nature.

But the girl was stubborn.

"No," she insisted. "Jack would be cross. I'll be fine, I promise." She stuck out her chin and glared at him. "Don't you follow me."

"Okay." Adam gave up and smiled at her disarmingly. "Nice to meet you..." He tilted his head. "What's your name?" he said.

"I'm Leyla."

"Then it was very nice to meet you, Leyla. I'm Adam."

She stared at him with solemn eyes. Spotting his bag, abandoned and muddy, he bent down to retrieve it.

By the time he straightened up again, Leyla was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Two**

_**Now...**_

_Sitting up was an unexpected challenge._

_"How long have I been lying here?" he wondered. Rolling over onto his front, he used both hands to push himself onto his knees. Action was always the best way to hold back fear, and so Adam began to crawl, feeling his way with awkward fingers. Lead-like exhaustion continued to drag him down. He couldn't understand it. The last time he had felt this tired was the morning after he finished a three day shift. That had been a big mistake - one that Adam had promised himself he would never repeat. At the time, Mac had been furious with him. And rightly so, of course. It was no-one else's fault. Sometimes, when a problem caught his imagination, Adam lost all track of time._

_Had it happened again?_

_And yet, he had never been so absorbed that he blanked out altogether. So this was something new after all._

_Adam's train of thought was brought to a painful halt as he crashed, face first, into a wall._

_He lifted one hand and ran his palm across the surface. No. Not a wall. A door._

_Filled with relief, he slid his fingers upwards until they curled of their own accord around the metal doorknob. Cool and hard, it nestled snugly in his hand. "Please," he whispered. "Open."_

_But no matter how hard he twisted and pulled, the door simply would not move for him._

_Adam sat back on his heels, dismayed._

_Someone had locked him up inside a tiny, pitch black room._

_Why couldn't he remember?_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Then...**

The second time that Adam saw Leyla was three days later. He had left work on time for once, and the stores were just beginning to close. Wary vendors locked their treasures away, leaving only a glimpse to tempt the imagination of passers-by. The young girl was standing in front of a toy store, two hands on the metal grille as she poked her face between the bars like a prisoner yearning for freedom.

"Hey," said Adam.

Leyla jumped back, startled.

Looking at her quizzical expression, Adam couldn't decide. Was she pleased to see him or just annoyed that he had interrupted her? "What are you looking at?" he asked.

She grinned at last. "Come and see."

Adam moved over to join her. "'Aladdin's Cave'," he read out loud, craning his neck to stare at the garish sign. Then he bent down and peered through the grille. The window was damp and dripping with condensation, but he managed to make out a colourful jumble of toys - the best that 'Aladdin' could offer to bribe passing children into his den.

"What's your favourite?" asked Adam. Leyla didn't answer. Turning to watch her, he realised that the question was unnecessary. Her green eyes were fixed in one direction. The dark-haired doll stared back, cold and unfeeling, but the girl didn't seem to care.

"She's pretty." Adam smiled. "Maybe Santa'll bring her to you for Christmas."

"Santa isn't real." She spoke out of the corner of her mouth.

A shiver of pity ran down his back. So sad, when childhood dreams were shattered. Adam himself had been five when that particular joy had been taken away from him.

"Okay - but Christmas is," he amended. "So maybe your mom'll buy it for you instead."

She looked away from the doll at last, her intensity surprising him. He blinked and stepped back.

"I doubt it," she said. Shoving her mittenless hands in her pockets, she shrugged. "What'll your mom get for you, d'you think?"

"My..? Oh. My mom's far away," he said. "In Arizona. She'll probably send me a card. And some money."

Oddly, the girl seemed curious. "What'll you buy?" she persisted.

"I... I don't know." Usually, he just stuck the money into a jar and let it pile up. Christmas and birthday, year after year. He hadn't the heart to spend it. Idly, he wondered how much there was by now. He'd never even counted it.

"Well." Leyla considered. Here was a problem, and clearly she wanted to solve it for him. "What do you like to do?"

And suddenly it was Adam who felt like the child, as she stood there waiting, hands on her hips. "I like games," he told her haltingly. "And music. And... books, I guess. Not stories, but facts."

"That's boring." said Leyla. "Like work. What else?"

"I like pictures," he remembered suddenly. "I used to draw..."

"Not now?"

A memory stirred, of paper, stripped from a notebook in sudden rage. Colourful, happy moments, torn to shreds. "Not now," he whispered.

"That's silly." She glared at him with straightforward indignation. "So, buy some paper. And some pencils. Maybe a sketchbook. Drawing is fun."

Adam found that he was holding his breath. He let it out quickly - and smiled. "Maybe you're right," he agreed.

"I know I am." Leyla turned to go. Halfway past the next store, she turned back and flashed him a cheeky grin. "Hey - when you get it? Draw me a picture."

Unaware that he had even done so, Adam nodded.

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That night, he couldn't sleep. His tiny apartment was cold but, trapped in a whirl of blankets, Adam felt ridiculously hot. A memory kept running round and round in his brain. Two small children, tangle-headed and deep in concentration as they lay on their stomachs, mapping out a world of their very own. A world that they could escape to. What had they called it? Adam dug deeper. Yes - of course. _Camelot._ After the stories that his sister loved so much.

His sister.

Giving up on sleep altogether, he slipped out of bed. _3:00_, screamed the glowing numbers that haunted his bedside table at night.

"Thanks so much for reminding me," groaned Adam. Sleep was a constant problem. His brain was always trying too hard - sometimes to remember, and sometimes to forget.

That was why he kept the important memories somewhere else. In case his thoughts became so muddled that they were lost forever, out of reach. He crossed to the closet and opened the door, stretching up on his toes as he searched with his fingers overhead. At last, he found what he was looking for. A little box, no bigger than a storybook. Lifting it down with exaggerated care, he sat on the floor and crossed his legs like a child. When he opened the lid, the box began to play a delicate tune in a minor key. He didn't know its name - had never known it, really. For him, it would always be 'Alice'.

Adam closed his eyes. Trembling fingers caressed the wood as the tune wore down into silence. He hadn't looked inside the box for over a year. Feeling guilty, he made the same old excuses. _I don't need to look inside it. I just need to know it's there._ Her memory, kept safe.

Blue eyes wide now, he held his breath and dipped his fingers into the jumble of treasures - beaded bracelets, plastic rings, folded map of Camelot - sifting through until he came to the thing he had been searching for all along.

A tiny figure, carved in wood and dressed with care in a gown made from scraps and ribbons. Framing her face was a delicate cap of painted russet curls. Pinprick eyes stared back at him, unblinking, as if to say _thank you for rescuing me_. She was a lucky charm of sorts, passed down from mother to daughter, and left behind at last in the hands of a son.

Closing the box with a sudden, awkward movement, Adam took the doll and slipped it furtively into his bag.


	3. Chapter 3

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Three**

_**Now...**_

_Adam turned around and settled himself against the door, banging the back of his head on the wood in frustration._

_This was so stupid._

_He knew who he was. He knew where he worked. A vivid, frowning picture of his boss popped into his mind, as clear as day. No problem there, then. But when he tried to reach for something more recent, the memories slipped away from him into the darkness like a fluttering cloud of moths, unseen and elusive._

_The darkness._

_Lifting his hand in front of his face, he found that his vision was starting to adjust. Pale grey fingers loomed before him. Adam wiggled them in relief, and sighed out loud._

_"So - what do I do now?" he asked himself, by way of a conversation starter. "I can't get out. That much is clear. And I can't hear anyone on the other side." As if to prove his point, he pressed his ear against the door. Nope. Nothing. "See what I mean?" he grumbled._

_A tickle rose in his throat and he gave a spluttering cough that threatened to choke him. Too dusty, he thought. I wish I had some water._

_That was when it finally hit him. The awful truth of his predicament. Logic rose up and taunted him with facts he really didn't want to face._

_"The rule of threes," he muttered dismally._

_Three minutes without air. But that was okay. The room didn't seem to be airtight._

_Three hours without shelter. "Well, I'm dry," he said. "And warm." Small mercies - but Adam clung to the positive thought. Right now, it was the only one he had._

_Three days without water. That was a frightening problem._

_Three weeks without food. If he didn't get a drink, he guessed that issue would be pretty obselete._

_"What if they don't come back...?" he whispered. _

_Whoever 'they' were..._

_And still, however hard he tried, Adam could not remember._

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**Then...**

"What's that?" asked Danny, passing by his locker.

"Oh. Er... nothing," said Adam, stuffing the little figure back in his pocket.

"You playin' with dolls now, Ross?" his colleague demanded, sidling up to the lab tech like a wolf in a fairy tale.

Workplace humour. Adam was still trying to get the hang of it. Danny, of course, was a master. Push a little, grin a little. Adam knew he could never get away with such an outrageous style. Any jokes he made just seemed to fall flat. People made _that_ face - the one that was always coupled with a silent exclamation. He could read it in their eyes. _Oh, Adam._

_Maybe he'll give me some lessons._ Adam sighed inwardly, just as Lindsay walked through the door.

Lindsay. Now there was a weakness, if ever Danny had one. Even the socially stunted lab rat could see it. His friend was besotted.

"Montana!"

Danny cranked his humour up a notch. Adam hovered quietly behind him, taking mental notes - until he discovered the joke was still on him.

"You play with dolls when you were a kid?" asked Danny innocently, moving closer to Lindsay as she dumped her bag on the bench.

"Not really." _Where is this going?_ said the look in her eyes. "I was more of an outdoor girl. Why? Did you?" Turning around, she caught sight of Adam's sheepish expression. "What's the matter, Adam?"

"Hm..? Oh, nothing." He spun away and hid behind the open locker door. He knew that his cheeks were crimson.

"What did you do to him, Messer?" the woman demanded.

"Who, me?" Somehow, Danny managed the impossible - a smirk that was contrite.

"Adam," she said with a frown. "Come here."

Always obedient, he shuffled round to join them.

"Now. What's going on?" she asked, her head moving slowly from one man to the other.

Danny shrugged his shoulders. Suddenly, the game wasn't fun any more. He hadn't meant to cause the lab rat any real distress.

Adam sat down on the bench. Shoving his hand in his pocket, he brought out the doll. Lindsay gazed at it curiously.

"Danny saw this," he told her. His voice was subdued and he kept his eyes averted. "He was asking me about it. That's all. Don't be mad, Lindsay."

"I'm not mad." She shook her head and sat down beside him. "But sometimes, Danny doesn't know when to stop." Holding out her hand, she nudged him gently with her shoulder. "Can _I_ see it?"

Shyly, the lab tech dropped it into her palm. Lindsay turned it round and round, exclaiming with delight. "Adam, that's beautiful. I've never seen anything like it. Where did you get it?"

Adam lifted his eyes. "It belonged to my sister."

"Your sister?" Danny leaned in for a closer look. "I didn't know you had one."

"If I had a sister, I probably wouldn't tell you either," countered Lindsay.

"Hey now, Montana - that's not fair."

The lab tech listened to them knock the conversation back and forth with easy strokes. The doll was still in Lindsay's possession. She fingered it unconsciously as she spoke. Part of him - the hidden part, deep down - wanted to snatch it away from her. _It's mine,_ he thought. _My memory._

So why was he willing to part with it for a child?

Sensing his discomfort, Lindsay turned back to Adam. "Here," she said, pressing the tiny figure into his hand.

"Okay - thanks."

But the woman hadn't finished. She could see in his eyes that there was something more.

"Why do you have it with you? If I'm prying, Adam, you don't have to tell me," she added, quickly.

And he couldn't. Why had he slipped it into his pocket at all? Carried it around all day? Even taken it out of its box in the first place?

"It's a gift." The lab rat shrugged. "For a friend. I'm going to see her now." _To look for her, anyway. Stupid, Adam. You'll probably never see the child again._

_And Alice is gone._

"Lucky friend," said Danny, trying to make amends.

"She's just a kid, you know? I thought that someone else should get to play with it. That's all."

Standing up, Adam slammed his locker shut and grabbed his bag.

Lindsay glared at Danny, urging him to make another move.

"Hey - buddy?" he ventured. "Sorry for being a jerk." Lindsay shoved him, as if to say, _'Is that the best you've got?'_ Danny shoved back, and chuckled.

"That's okay," breathed Adam, flashing them both a sudden smile. "You can't help it." He slipped out of the locker room abruptly, leaving two stunned faces in his wake.

Danny grinned. "He's learning."

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**A/N:** The Rule of Threes is mentioned in CSI (and if anyone can name the episode, I'll be very impressed) but I also looked it up (hooray for Google) and it is a real survival 'rule'. Although the water part is actually three to five days. How long will Adam have to last without it? Mwahahahaha...

Also: There's a line in the show which indicates that Adam _has_ a sister (present tense). I like to stick with canon, so I'll not be ignoring that. (And if you can name _that_ episode, then you're brilliant...)


	4. Chapter 4

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Four**

_**Now...**_

_Adam was used to being in his own little world. But that didn't mean he liked to be alone. In point of fact, the hum of people around him at the crime lab was one of the most comforting sounds he knew. The noise of traffic in the streets; the rattle and thump of the subway - white noise was safe and kept the ghosts away. Silence was his enemy. It let in fear. Searching his pockets, Adam was distressed to find that he didn't even have his i-pod. Not that it would have done him much good - he hadn't charged it for days._

_"Now, how did I remember that?" He lifted his head, surprised._

_Keep thinking, Adam._

_Sitting around wasn't helping him either, that much was certain. "W.W.M.D?" sighed Adam. "What Would Mac Do?" Once again, the boss-man rose up before him. This time, he was smiling, as he held out his hand. Adam shook it, lost in the sudden memory..._

_"Welcome to the New York Crime Lab."_

_"Thank you, sir," said the lab tech, overwhelmed. "I promise - you won't regret giving me this chance. I'll work my a... I'll work really hard, sir. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it."_

_"I know you will," said Mac. Was that laughter in his eyes? "But that's not why I hired you."_

_"Then... why?" Adam stared at him in bewilderment._

_"What I look for in my colleagues. What I saw in you, at the interviews. Creativity. And initiative. Anyone can follow orders, Ross. A soldier learns that, in basic training. I don't need soldiers. I need problem solvers. People who can think for themselves and don't just wait for someone else to tell them what to do."_

_"I understand." Nodding devoutly, Adam realised how much he wanted to gain this man's good opinion. "Creativity. No problem, sir."_

_"And Ross?"_

_"Yes, sir?"_

_"You don't have to call me 'sir'."_

_"Oh - okay, sir. Sorry. I mean... boss?"_

_Alone in the darkness, Adam was forced to laugh. What a fool he made of himself sometimes. "Why do I do that?" he grumbled._

_Hovering in his subconscious, Mac waited patiently._

_Okay. Initiative, then. And creativity._

_In a dark, empty box._

_The lab rat clambered to his feet, still leaning against the wall for support. Damn, but his legs were shaking. "Was I drugged?" he wondered, suddenly. Maybe that was it. The fuzzy head, the memory loss, the trembling in his limbs... But why would anyone do that to him, of all people?_

_"Concentrate, Adam," he hissed between his teeth. Pushing away from the wall at last, he managed to stand up straight. _

_Time to explore._

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**Then...**

Crime scenes in his neighbourhood always made Adam nervous. So many people passed him each day, living out their quiet lives as they danced around each other in a flowing routine of meetings and partings - what if it was one of them? Lying in a pool of blood, or broken in some mindless, terrible way? A face from the sidewalk, or the grocery store? How would he react? Would he freeze, as he did in his childhood? Or panic, maybe, and rush from the scene in distress? Or would the sight simply leave him cold? When Adam really stopped to think about it, that was his deepest fear. Becoming so used to violence that it seemed mundane, a part of everyday life - not something to dread.

_You're crazy,_ he sighed, as he hopped through the snow like a bird, dodging from one of Mac's footprints to the next. _This is your job, and Mac thinks you can do it. Why must you always panic?_ He stared up at the dowdy apartment block. Ice-water trickled through his socks and made a pool in the bottom of his sneakers.

_I need better shoes,_ thought Adam, obliquely.

"Adam. Keep up," Mac called over his shoulder.

"Yes, sir," breathed the lab rat. Somehow, he'd never been able to break that habit. Mac climbed the buried steps with ease and disappeared through the doorway. Behind him, Adam's heel caught on a hidden patch of ice and he slipped, the unexpected motion sending him crashing to the ground in a flurry of snow and startled curses.

He lay there, stunned for a moment. The sky above him was cloudless and blue. The snow beneath him was freezing.

"Bet that hurt," said a cheerful voice. Adam sat up, and groaned.

"Oh, man - my head."

She bent down to give him a hand. He took it, smiling. "Leyla," he said. "I've been looking for you."

Leaning backwards, Leyla pulled, and Adam rose, offering her the illusion that her strength had lifted him up. She saw straight through it, of course, but he could tell that she was flattered.

"Are you bleeding?" she said, with childish curiosity.

He rubbed the back of his skull, where a lump had already begun to rise. "I'll be fine."

"You should put some snow on that," she offered helpfully.

They both stared down at his clothes, which were covered in slush. Adam giggled, and Leyla joined in, cupping her hands to her mouth in delight at the joke. "Okay - maybe not," she agreed.

"I _hate_ this stupid stuff," he complained. _You cupcake,_ said Danny's mocking voice in his head. Adam ignored it.

"So. Why were you looking for me?" the girl asked, tilting her head as she watched his hopeless, flapping attempts to dislodge the snow that covered the back of his coat.

"Oh!" Startled, Adam left off what he was doing and reached into the pocket of his jeans. Pulling his hand back out at last, he kept his fingers curled. A sudden wave of doubt had overcome him. What if she didn't like it? What if he was being inappropriate?

Too late.

"What's that?" she demanded.

He let his hand fall open. "It's for you," he whispered, keeping his eyes on the doll, and not her face. "I know it isn't Christmas yet, and it's not the one you like... But I just thought... well, I thought you might like it, okay? It's all right if you don't," he added, hurriedly.

Leyla was silent. Afraid that he had offended her, Adam looked up - and saw that her eyes were shining.

"For me?" she gasped, reaching out and taking the tiny thing. He felt it leave his palm, and to his surprise, there was no regret.

"It belonged to my sister," he explained.

"Your sister?" Leyla stared at him.

"Yes. But now it's yours. Is... is that okay?"

She blinked, the colour rising in her cheeks. "It's okay," she breathed.

"Adam!" said a sharp voice, interrupting them. "What's keeping you?"

Leyla sprang back like a startled rabbit. "Thank you," she gasped, as she spun on her heel and darted away, leaving Adam standing alone. He blinked in shock.

"I... sorry, boss. I fell."

Mac stood at the top of the steps and frowned at the sodden lab rat. "You don't look good."

Mistaking gruff concern for disapproval, Adam spoke up quickly. "No, I'm fine." He retrieved his case and bounced up to join his boss, two steps at a time. "See? Nothing wrong."

Mac sighed, unconvinced. "Very well. But don't drop snow all over the crime scene." Letting Adam pass, he glanced down the street. "Who were you talking to?"

"No one," the lab rat said blithely - but a smile was hovering on his lips and his eyes were full of glee.

Mac saw the lie, and let it pass. He was puzzled, but he didn't like to pry. Perhaps the girl had simply helped him up.

And yet...

Something more had passed between them. Something he couldn't quite understand. Not sinister - he knew the lab rat's kind and gentle nature - but more intense than any sudden meeting ought to be.

Why did it bother him?

Sighing, the detective pushed the problem from his mind. Work was all that mattered right now. Another body, another crime to solve.

_Besides, it's probably nothing. Just my suspicious nature working overtime, like me._

He ducked beneath the yellow tape and stepped into the crime scene, following the little trail of drips from Adam's coat.

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**A/N:** Oh, you're so good!

Yes, the episode of CSI that mentions the Rule of Threes is the one where an elderly lady was locked in her closet during a robbery. (Homebodies, Season 4 ep 3). Well done, Mahala!

The episode in which Adam mentions his sister is in Season 5. I like to call it "The one with the Vultures" or "The one with the eyeball", but it's actually called "No Good Deed". Adam and Stella are watching the nanny-cam footage of Enrico and Flora, and Adam says "That's not how I treat _my_ sister." CAT217 got that one! Actually, my favourite part of that episode is the section where Danny and Adam take a little field trip...

Next chapter tomorrow. (It is the weekend, after all...)

Hope everyone is enjoying this story. Thanks for the reviews and follows!


	5. Chapter 5

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Five**

_**Now...**_

_A headache was starting to worm its way through the base of Adam's skull. He found the offending spot and pressed against it with his fingers. No time to feel sorry for himself. He had to get out of here._

_Sliding along the wall, he found the first corner. Mentally, he measured the length. Four metres from the door to the back of the room. Adam changed direction - but this time there was something in his way. A high stack of shelves, from floor to ceiling. He reached out and started to search with his fingers, hoping for something useful. "Right - like a torch, or a bottle of water," he scoffed. Still, no harm in trying._

_The lowest shelf was empty. At one time, it had been lined with paper. Now, only curling scraps remained. Adam sighed, and slid his fingers higher._

_On the second shelf, he found a pile of blankets. From the smell of them, they had been there for quite some time. Running his hand across the top, Adam found a hole - and something moving inside. He jerked back sharply._

_Great. Not alone, then._

_Sharing his captivity with a nest of baby mice._

_Warier by now, and wiser, Adam poked at the third shelf, which was level with his head. This time, he found a stack of cans. Old ones, sadly, without the handy ring on top. So - food at last, but no way to open it._

_Top shelf._

_Adam stood on his tiptoes and stretched up nervously into the dark. Feeling around with his fingers once more, he came across a heavy plastic bottle. Could it be water? Hope grew inside him. He started to drag it forwards, breathing heavily with the effort. Dust fell into his open mouth, making him cough, but he swallowed it down and persisted. Suddenly, there was a squeak from the blankets. It startled him - and the bottle teetered right on the edge of the shelf. Lost in the darkness, Adam tried to catch it but his fingers were too late._

_The next thing he knew, he was back on the floor, and the bottle was rolling beside him._

_"Ouch," he mumbled._

_So much for initiative. Right back where he started, and nothing more than a bump on the head to show for it._

_Unless..._

_Adam reached out for the bottle. With shaking hands, he gripped the cap. It was tight, but he persisted. "Water," he prayed, "please, water."_

_The bottle snapped open at last and he sniffed at it cautiously._

_The sharp scent of bleach stabbed back at him and he cried out in despair. Shoving the cap back on, cross-threaded, he thrust the bottle away from him and dropped his head into his hands._

_"I'm in a cupboard," he whispered, bleakly._

_An old one, he guessed. Unvisited, and unused._

_In a basement...?_

_Like fragments of a dream, a memory stirred._

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**Then...**

"Nice doodle," said Sheldon, peering over his shoulder.

Adam jumped. His heart slammed into his chest. _What is it with these people?_ he wondered. _Why are they always creeping up on me?_

He tried to close the notebook, but Sheldon had already reached across and flicked it out of his hands. _That's mine, _thought Adam fiercely - but all he said was, "Can I have it back, please?"

"No, wait," said the doctor, full of admiration. "Adam, this is really good. I didn't know you could draw like that. Who is she?"

He turned back the pages. Adam winced. Slotted in between random notes and equations were his efforts to capture Leyla's cheerful face. "She's just a friend. A girl I know. I see her on the street sometimes."

"But you've given her such character." Spotting the other man's blushes, Sheldon toned down his enthusiasm.

"She's memorable," shrugged the lab rat.

"So I see." The doctor returned the notebook at last. Adam snapped it shut. He chewed on his pen as he gazed up at Sheldon.

"What can I help you with, Doctor Hawkes?" he said.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Leaving the subway late in the evening, Adam began to thread his way home through the alleys and sidestreets that formed the shortest route to his apartment. His hands were deep in his pockets, and he kicked the snow as he walked. Brown by now, and ugly, it flew through the air in clumps, tumbling onto the path ahead of him. A cold wind passed by, making Adam shiver. Pausing for a moment to rub his arms, he turned and stared at his footprints; a jumbled, broken trail through the empty alleyway.

But - no. Not empty. Back there, where the lamplight couldn't reach. Wasn't that a figure?

Adam's breath caught in his throat.

_No more messing around. Time to go home._

He moved away, but in his mind he could still see it. A shadowy presence, lurking behind a dumpster.

Adam quickened his pace. He tried not to look back again, but the compulsion was overwhelming. Turning out of the alleyway, he risked a second glance. His fists clenched in his pockets, ready for action, as he peered around the corner.

No one was there.

_Great. That's just great,_ sighed Adam. _I'm a regular hero - jumping at shadows and frightened of nothing at all._

Cross with himself, he wrapped his arms around his frozen chest and stomped home in a temper.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Three a.m. Again.

Adam resisted the urge to throw his alarm clock at the wall. He knew that if he broke it, he would oversleep in the morning. Being late for work was one of his nightmares. So, instead, he climbed out of bed once more and padded softly through his apartment to the kitchen.

A drink of water. That would help.

At least it gave him something else to do.

The blind was up, and moonlight filled the room with an eerie glow. Adam shivered. Outside, snow was falling with a strange diagonal motion. Random flakes hit the glass and trickled downwards, leaving a silver trail. It should have been beautiful - but the lonely cry of the wind made Adam feel sad.

Filling his glass, he leaned on the counter and stared through the window, mesmerised. Around each lamp, the snowflakes whirled. Elsewhere, the street was dark.

And then he saw it.

A shadowy figure, yet again, leaning on a post and staring straight at his apartment.

Adam dropped his glass and stepped back in fright. Water splashed across his feet, as the tumbler rolled away, unharmed. Creeping forwards, he held his breath and tried to take another look without being seen.

But the figure was already trudging away down the street, shoulders hunched and back towards him. Adam was too high up to see it clearly. Minutes later, it turned a corner. Helpfully, the snowflakes followed, hiding the trail of footprints. Before long, there was no proof that it had ever been there at all.

Adam did not sleep again that night.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**A/N:** VentFort67 - of course I don't mind if you write some lines of your review in French. Sorry, I meant to say that at the end of the last chapter.

I've had some really detailed and thoughtful reviews for this story so far. Thank you so much! I'm still really nervous about it, for some strange reason. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Coming next - Don Flack!


	6. Chapter 6

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Six**

_**Now...**_

_Keeping his eyes shut, Adam chased the memory._

_Down in a basement._

_Red curls. Green eyes._

_A white face, looming over him._

_Leyla._

_The last thing he remembered._

_He hoped that she was safe._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Then...**

Stepping through the precinct doors, Adam was overwhelmed by heat and noise. A dirty pool of water ran through the centre of the room; castoff from an endless stream of snow-covered boots and shoes. The door slammed shut behind him, trapping the warm air inside - and the lab rat too. Adam jumped, and stared around unhappily.

_Why did I come here?_ _This was a bad idea._

Too late.

"Hey - Ross?" said a cheery voice. "Are you lookin' for me?"

"Um... Yes." He stumbled through the maze of desks. _Now you've done it._ "Detective Flack. I wondered if you could help me..?"

"You never know," the detective grinned. Blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he peered at the nervous lab tech. "You cold? We got coffee here. I could get you a mug."

"No. No, thanks." Adam shook his head.

"Then at least take a seat." Don pointed. "You're makin' me twitchy just lookin' at you. Surely I'm not that scary?"

Dropping his bag, Adam took the edge of the offered chair. He leaned on the desk, his hands clutched together. "I think I'm in trouble," he whispered.

"Why?" Don whispered back. He couldn't help it.

Adam frowned. "You're going to think I'm crazy."

"No. Sorry. No, I'm not." _I hope,_ thought Don to himself.

The detective pictured Ross in his natural environment, back at the lab. Somehow, he stood out from all the other clones in white coats. 'That jumpy little guy," was what Don called him. A genius, so Mac said. But Don knew that genius, like a wish in a fairytale, often demanded something in return. In Adam's case, he guessed this had to be confidence. The poor man seemed to have none.

And yet, here he was.

So maybe something was really up.

_Why come to me?_ Don wondered. Watching Adam, he waited for him to continue.

"I think that someone's following me," said the lab tech. Unconsciously, he turned and looked behind him.

Don leaned back, startled.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well... I've seen them, of course." Adam raised one eyebrow. "It's been three days, now. At first I thought my mind was playing tricks on me." He stared at the detective, trying to gauge his reaction. Don kept his face as straight as possible. "But I'm not stupid, Detective Flack. I know the difference between a man and a shadow."

"I'm sure you do."

"Okay. Thanks." Adam gave a hopeful smile, warmed by the man's reassurance. "So, can you help me?"

_Damn._ "Not really," sighed Don. "I take it you've got no proof."

"What proof could I have?"

"A photo? A face. Did you see anything that would give you some kind of clue as to who they might be?"

The lab rat shrank into his chair. "It was dark," he mumbled. "And I was too far away. It's always at night. Around my apartment, and on my way home. For three days," he repeated. His eyes grew wide as his voice died away. "I'm kinda scared..."

Flack dug through his bottom drawer. Pulling something out, he placed it on the desk.

"Pepper spray?" said Adam. "That's what you're giving me?"

"Don't knock it. It works," muttered Don, but he could tell that the man was disappointed.

"You don't really believe me," Adam accused him.

"Yes. Yes, I do. It's just..."

"It's just that you know exactly who I am. Adam Ross, the crazy lab tech, always nervous, always talking too much. Stands to reason he must be off his head." Angry in a way that Flack had never seen before, the man stood up. Scorning the mace, he snatched up his bag and stalked out of the precinct. Don watched the double doors swing shut behind him.

"Okay. That went well," he muttered.

_Maybe I should call Mac._

But then again - why embarrass the poor guy further? Don's instincts were sharp enough that he could tell Ross would never forgive him if he betrayed a confidence - and to his boss, of all people.

Feeling slightly unsettled, he dropped the pepper spray back in its drawer and returned to his paperwork.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Like all good tantrums, this one melted as soon as Adam left the precinct. Leaning on the wall outside, he tried not to hyperventilate. Passers-by looked at him strangely, and he lowered his head in shame. "You did _not_ just do that," he scolded himself.

_Oh, God. Yes I did._

_I yelled at Detective Flack._

_And I'm still alive...?_

With a nervous giggle, he gathered his courage and stepped away from the wall. _Maybe I should go back and apologise..._

Adam stared at the door. But somehow he could not will his feet to move in that direction. His shoulders drooped.

_What did you think he was going to do? Call out the whole of the NYPD to protect you?_

_Fat chance._

_At least he didn't laugh at me._

_Not out loud, anyway._

Adam sighed.

_I should have taken the pepper spray..._

He pulled out his phone and pressed speed dial.

"Yo - Adam?" said Danny, answering straight away. "Where did you go, buddy? Mac's been lookin' for you."

_Of course he has. Perfect._ "Um, Danny. Could you do me a favour? Tell Mac I'm... well, I'm sick. I'm heading home."

"Okay..." Danny was dubious. "Sure I can do that. If you tell me what's really up."

Adam wavered. Could he? But the conversation with Flack had knocked his confidence and, in the end, he took shelter in his lie. "I'm sick. I told you."

"If you say so." Strangely, Danny sounded hurt. Swallowing down his guilt, Adam ended the call as quickly as he could.

"Thanks, Danny. I owe you one. See you tomorrow, okay?"

Without even waiting to hear the reply, he switched off his phone completely and dropped it into his bag.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Leaving the station in daylight, he was relieved to find a host of people around him. _Safety in numbers,_ thought Adam, enjoying the wild sensation of being swept along in their midst. No shadow could find him here. He didn't even care where they were heading.

It was only when the crowd began to thin out that he started to take note of his surroundings. He had come in the wrong direction if he wanted his apartment - but home meant silence, and blinds across the windows. Strangely happy to be lost, Adam stood still and let the rest of the people surge around him. They disappeared down the street, and he was alone.

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**A/N:** Think Don would just leave it there? No! Me neither...


	7. Chapter 7

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Seven**

_**Now...**_

_Time passed. Adam sat in front of the door, hugging his knees to his chest. The smell of bleach still lingered in the air, making him feel queasy._

_Or was it the bump on his head?_

_Compulsively, he reached up and touched it, wincing at the contact. His fingers came away sticky and, when he held them to his nose, he smelled the distinctive, coppery tang of blood. Repulsed, he wiped them on the wall nearby but the darkness meant that he couldn't really be sure if they were clean. Maybe he was leaving bloody fingerprints on everything he touched..._

_Adam shuddered._

_The nightmare was closing in around him. He knew that, if he let go for a moment, panic would overwhelm him and he would be lost._

_"Stop it," he gasped. "Get hold of yourself. You're locked in a room - that's all. There's nothing here that can harm you."_

_Except for thirst, his logical brain retorted. And hunger. And now a concussion._

_Monsters in the night..._

_The curious phrase rang a bell in his aching head. Adam stiffened. Once again, he could picture Leyla's face, and her lips were moving. "I'm afraid of monsters in the night..."_

_"So am I," whispered Adam, in sudden sympathy._

_But no one was there to hear him._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Then...**

With the onslaught of urban renewal, long-ago promised and now abandoned, the buildings on this block had been emptied, and their many windows boarded up. Saddest of all was a large hotel, the glamour of its entrance fading away in ghostly shades of crimson and gold. The few glass panes that remained in the door were broken, and covered in dirt.

Adam gazed up at the rotting sign. "Avalon," it read. He froze in sudden disbelief. How strange...

_"Avalon," said a quiet voice. "It's a magical place. When King Arthur was wounded in battle, they took him to the isle across the water. People think he's still waiting there, and that he'll come back one day."_

_"Can we go there too?" asked the little boy. His blue eyes were shining. "I want to see him. Please."_

_"Not now." His sister smiled as she chose the perfect green to colour the island. "But maybe one day. If we're very good..."_

Blinking fiercely, Adam turned to leave.

"Hello," said Leyla.

The lab rat jumped. He couldn't help himself. Memory and reality had mingled far too deeply, and it was hard to come back from the past.

She stared at him. "Are you okay? You're really white."

"Oh.. yes. Of course. It's just that... See, I thought you were..." He shook his head. "Never mind. I'm not feeling very well."

The same lie, yet again. But this time, Adam couldn't ignore the wave of guilt. He smiled at the girl regretfully. "No, that's not true," he admitted. "I'm playing truant. How about you?"

Leyla shrugged. "I'm glad you're here," she said. "There's something I want to show you."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hey, Danno. You seen that lab tech of yours - what's his name? Ross?" Don Flack feigned nonchalance, even as his eyes were darting around the lab.

"Went home sick," said Danny shortly. "Why?"

_Why? Good question._ Flack still couldn't quite understand what had made him leave the precinct, and his paperwork - _so_ overdue by now - to come in search of Adam. He certainly wasn't going to try and explain it to Danny. _Now who's crazy?_ he sighed.

"I need to tell him something." Thinking about what his friend had just said, the detective frowned. "Sick? Really?"

"So he said." Danny shrugged. "I'm not sayin' I believed him."

"Is that usual?"

"Nah. The guy's a workaholic. Usually, we're pushin' him outta the door."

They stared at each other. Flack looked shifty.

"What did you do?" the CSI demanded, finally. _I sound like Lindsay..._

_Nothing,_ thought Don. _And that's the problem._ "He asked me for help. I think he'd rather I kept it confidential."

"And did you? Help him, I mean?"

"I couldn't. I wanted to..." The protestation sounded like an excuse, but Don really meant it. He couldn't shake the image of the angry lab rat, stomping away from his desk. "That's why I came here. To talk some more." Don chewed his lip. "Do you know where he lives?"

To his chagrin, Danny didn't. "Let me find out," he offered. "We'll go there together."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You have to promise," Leyla hissed. "Promise to keep it a secret."

"I promise," whispered Adam, enjoying the game.

The back of the Avalon hotel was far less romantic and, frankly, quite depressing. Leyla waded through a pool of slush and tugged at a panel of wood. The door behind it hung off its hinges. "Through there?" he asked, surprised.

"Of course. Can you fit?" She pointed to the slender gap between the door and its frame.

"Are you calling me fat?" he giggled. "After you."

Truancy and now trespassing. Adam had never broken so many rules before. And yet somehow, today, he really didn't care.

Watching her disappear through the crack, he held his breath and followed. Splinters tugged at his coat and his scarf, but Adam made it through safely. "What next?" he said.

Leyla's face shone in the gloom. "Follow me," she replied.

Taking his hand with the simple trust of a child, she led him onwards through the abandoned building. Mould was everywhere, and cobwebs, dropping like chandeliers from the distant ceilings. Passing through kitchens and narrow passageways, they came at last to the entrance hall. Adam's mouth fell open. Once again, the past rose up before him - not his, this time, but vivid nonetheless. Conjured by his imagination, elegant figures swept across the foyer; sat in velvet chairs and discussed society events. The place had hardly changed at all. Only a layer of dust kept history at bay.

"It's so grand," he murmured, afraid to raise his voice.

Leyla grinned.

"It's my castle."

Adam's eyes followed the central staircase. Something about it fascinated him - from the wide curve of its base to the way it disappeared into the darkness, far above. "What's up there?" he asked the girl, imagining floor after floor of wilted splendour.

Her silence surprised him, and he turned to stare at her. Her green eyes looked grey, and haunted.

"I don't go up there," she told him, shaking her head.

"Why not?"

"Monsters," she whispered. "I'm afraid of monsters in the night."

And suddenly he realised just how young she was, this new friend of his.

"What are we doing here?" he asked her gently.

Leyla tried to gather herself, sorry to have shown him her childish fear. "We need to go down. It's okay. We'll be safe."

_She's scared, but she's trying to reassure me._ Adam smiled and squeezed her hand. "Let's go, then," he said. "I'm ready."

The deeper into the labyrinth they went, the more he felt as though he were leaving reality behind altogether. This was a fairy tale, a story, and he was - _the Fool, I suppose,_ he sighed. Leyla padded onwards silently, down corridors and stairwells, sure of her way and anxious to reach her goal. At last, two floors down, she halted.

"We're here," she said. He could barely see the girl by now, but she gripped his fingers with nervous anticipation.

"Here? Where's here?"

"My home," she answered.

Adam was glad of the darkness. It meant that Leyla couldn't see the shock upon his face.


	8. Chapter 8

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Eight**

_**Now...**_

_Adam could feel himself slipping. Random images trickled through his brain, making him shiver. Even the strongest memory seemed like little more than a distant dream by now. The lab rat wrapped his arms around his chest and tried to hold on to his sanity._

_"Wish I had someone to talk to," he muttered. "Need to stay awake."_

_"Talk to yourself," Mac suggested. "You usually do."_

_Adam turned around in shock._

_His boss was sitting beside him._

_"Ridiculous," gasped Adam. "You're not real."_

_Closing his eyes, he counted to ten and hoped against hope that when he looked back, the vision would be gone._

_Eight... Nine... Ten._

_Adam pried one eyelid open, just a crack. Nothing but darkness._

_"Thank God," he moaned, and dropped his head back against the wooden door._

_Bad idea._

_The wave of pain that crashed through his skull almost made him pass out altogether. Adam dug his fingernails into his palms, willing himself to stay conscious. Nausea tore at his gut, but he fought it stubbornly, swallowing hard to keep from throwing up._

_At last, his breathing evened out. Adam relaxed, exhausted._

_"Feeling better?" said Mac._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Then...**

"Maybe he's sleeping."

Danny lowered his fist as he spoke. Five long minutes of pounding on Adam's door had left him worried, and more than a little annoyed.

Standing beside him, Flack pulled a face.

"Come on, Messer - you don't even think he's sick." The detective shook his head in resignation. "Clearly, he's not here."

"This isn't like him." Frowning, Danny stalked up and down. "He doesn't lie, okay, and he doesn't skip work." The CSI paused in front of the detective. "You gotta tell me, Flack. What did he say to you? What's got you so riled up that you would come all the way out here lookin' for him? You barely even know him."

"Okay, okay. I'll tell you. Just don't give me up, all right?" Don looked guilty. "He thinks that someone's following him."

"You're kidding me." Arms folded, Danny glared at him. "And what did you say?"

"Well... I offered him some pepper spray." Even as he said the words, Don heard how lame they sounded. "And then... um, well, then he walked out on me."

Even Danny looked shocked. "He did what?"

"Actually, 'stormed out' would be a better description." The detective sighed. "I guess I don't blame him, either. He seemed pretty scared. And I couldn't offer him any kind of help. He had no proof. Just random sightings."

Leaning on a nearby wall, Danny considered. "You think he was seein' things?"

Don shrugged. "How could I tell? I know it felt real to him. Three days, he said. All at night, in this neighbourhood."

Now it was Danny's turn to feel guilty. "Three days? And he never said a word. I wonder why not." He thought back over Adam's recent behaviour. "Mind you, he has been kinda quiet. I just thought he was busy. We drive him pretty hard at at the lab." He smacked his forehead. "More fool me."

"So, where is he?" Don glanced up and down the corridor. "Walkin' the streets, you reckon? Or holed up in some bar, drowning his sorrows?"

"I'm ashamed to say, I don't know the guy that well. I wouldn't even know where to begin." Danny's phone buzzed. Looking down at it, he groaned. "And that's Mac. Probably wonderin' why people keep disappearing. I'd better get back to work."

"Me too." The detective shrugged. "Look, Messer. When he turns up tomorrow - ask him to give me a call. Tell him I was looking for him. Okay?"

"Okay," Danny promised. What else could they do?

Silently, the two men walked away, but the thought of Adam's empty apartment lingered in the back of their minds, like an itch that couldn't be scratched.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At first, Adam couldn't see anything. Leyla flitted from place to place, lighting endless candles. It was almost like magic. With each new flame, a section of the room burst into life, revealing fresh and fascinating glimpses into the young girl's world. Adam knew that he should be horrified, but part of him felt strangely jealous. Freedom was here, and safety. _I'm standing in her imagination,_ he thought.

"Do you like it?" she asked him shyly, hovering in the centre of the room as she slipped the lighter back in her pocket.

"I really do," he said.

Books were piled up everywhere, and in the corner, a mattress and a bundle of blankets marked the place where she slept. Sheets were pinned above it in the manner of a makeshift canopy. Someone had taken the time to drag down furniture from the floors above - a chair, a desk and a little set of drawers. _Not Leyla,_ he guessed. _Then who?_

On top of the drawers, he was startled to see the tiny doll, sitting in pride of place beside a worn out teddy bear, a necklace and a book of fairy tales. The little display reminded him of Alice's musical box. It made him feel breathless, and slightly sad. Here was loss, just like his, he could tell.

Picking up one of the candles, Leyla beckoned to Adam. "This is my favourite wall," she said, casting more light across it.

The plaster was cracked, and full of holes, but that didn't matter. Leyla had taken a few simple colours and turned it into a childhood fantasy. People and creatures from her imagination mingled with scenes that he recognised at once. Local shops and buildings. The subway station. Apartment blocks, with endless windows and zig-zag fire escapes. There was also a maze of twisting passages that Adam took to be the Avalon itself. At one end was a picture of Leyla's sanctuary. The other end headed into the shadows, just outside the circle of candlelight.

_I guess she couldn't bring herself to draw it._ Adam ran his fingers over the images, following the trail as though he were reading a story. In the middle of the wall, he came to a figure that he recognised at once.

"That's you," he grinned, turning back to compare it with the original.

Leyla nodded. Pride fought with embarrassment on her face.

"Who's that beside you?"

"That's Jack," she said, with surprise.

_Kids always think you know everything,_ thought Adam, slightly amused. "Okay. And Jack is...?"

"My brother, of course."

_Of course._ Adam felt as though he were edging along a precipice. If he strayed too far in the wrong direction, he would fall - and there would be no going back. Leyla's trust in him was a fragile thing. To help her in any way, he could not break it. "Where's Jack now?" he asked, keeping his questions simple.

"He's working." Leyla moved closer, running her own hand over the two drawn figures. "Jack looks after me." Stretching out to the desk, she pulled a marker from a jam jar and slipped it into Adam's hand. He looked down, startled. "You should be on there too," said Leyla. "Go on. Draw yourself."

Now it was Adam's turn to be embarrassed. "I... I couldn't. I mean... this is _your_ work. I wouldn't want to spoil it."

"I'm sure you'll do okay." She pointed to a spot on the wall, right beside her self-portrait. _Leyla, and Jack... and Adam._ "Don't worry if you make a mistake. I won't mind." Taking his arm, she lifted it up, pulling the cap off the pen at the same time. Adam had to laugh.

"You're very stubborn," he accused her. "All right then, I will. But don't say I didn't warn you..."

Starting with a scruffy head of hair, he began to draw. Before long, he was totally absorbed. To his surprise, the wall was a welcoming canvas, and the marker pen flew over it in easy, accomplished strokes. Adam's style was fluid, and self-derogatory - almost like a cartoon - but it was clearly him. Leyla clapped in delight when he had finished. Suddenly shy again, Adam shoved the cap back onto the pen and stepped away.

"See," said the girl. "I told you. Drawing is fun."

"Are you always right?" he teased her, gently.

"I think so." She shrugged.

Dropping the marker back into the jar, Adam gazed around once more. "I love your book collection," he commented. "Do you... do you know the story of Camelot? And King Arthur? And Avalon?"

"Like here?" Leyla tilted her head.

"Like here," he nodded. Settling down cross-legged on the floor, he waited for her to join him. Her eager eyes found his and she stared at him, caught already, desperate for the tale.

In Adam's mind, another girl sat next to her, nodding happily.

"Long ago," he began in a soft voice, searching for the words deep in his memory. "Long ago, there was a king named Uther..."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adam stayed there late into the evening, until his throat was sore and he had run out of stories. Leyla let him go with great reluctance.

"I have to go to bed," he sighed. "If I don't turn up at work tomorrow, I'll probably lose my job."

"Okay." She nodded. "But you'll come and see me again. Won't you, Adam? Please?"

"As soon as I can," he told her. "Show me out?"

She led him back through endless corridors, and up to the broken door. As he pushed his way through the crack, Leyla grabbed his sleeve. "Remember. You promised."

"Promised? What?" he asked, uncertainly, even though he knew what she meant.

"Promised you wouldn't tell."

Adam nodded. "I did," he sighed. "And I won't. I'll come back tomorrow. Be careful, Leyla."

"_You_ be careful," she retorted. "It's dark outside. Make sure you get home safely."

The last thing she heard was laughter as he set off down the lonely alleyway.

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**A/N:** Thank you for your reviews. I'm finding it really strange because the things that worry me most in each chapter are the things that everyone likes. Which gives me such encouragement! So I'm really grateful. And thank you to everyone who is taking the time to read/follow Haunted.


	9. Chapter 9

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Nine**

_**Now...**_

_"Are you trying to ignore me?" his boss asked pleasantly._

_Adam shifted sideways and glared off into the darkness. Behind him, he could feel a pair of imaginary eyes, boring into the back of his head._

_"How can I possibly ignore a figment of my own imagination?" he muttered._

_"You're talking to me, aren't you?"_

_"No, I'm not. Well. Yes, I am... but it's not really you. It's me, okay?"_

_"So, then, ignore yourself."_

_Adam looked back over his shoulder. "That doesn't even make sense. Which proves you're not Mac, 'cos Mac always makes sense. It's me that talks rubbish. Ergo, I _must_ be talking to myself."_

_"Adam. You're rambling."_

_Crossly, the lab rat turned on Mac. "I've had a bump on the head, all right? And I'm dying of thirst here. For once, I've actually got the right to run on like an idiot. Wouldn't you agree?"_

_"Of course. I'm you."_

_Adam gave up in disgust._

_"Why did I have to hallucinate my boss?" he grumbled. "Next time, I want Stella..."_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Then...**

Hiding at work was never going to be easy. Glass walls were a curse, sometimes. Adam had only been there ten minutes when Danny tracked him down.

"Yo, Ross. I want a word with you."

Charm seemed like the best defense. Adam flashed a lop-sided smile, but he couldn't quite meet the other man's eyes. ""Oh, hey, Danny, it's you. Um, thanks for yesterday. I hope Mac wasn't too mad."

"He wasn't. But I am. And so's Detective Flack."

"De.. Flack?" Why was breathing suddenly so difficult? "What? He was here? I mean..."

"Adam, just spit it out." Danny slapped him on the back. "You disappeared. We went to your place to see if you were okay. So tell me, where did you really go?"

Sliding backwards in his chair, Adam leapt to his feet. "You were following me?" he gasped, horrified. Through the glass, heads turned, drawn by their argument. Adam flushed. _Eyes. Everywhere, staring at me..._ Suddenly, he couldn't stand it. _I have to get out..._

"Don't put it like that. You said you were sick. And then Flack swung by, and he seemed all concerned..." Danny frowned. "There's no need to get so defensive. I'm your friend, Adam. You know that - don't you?"

"Fine," snapped the lab rat, edging towards the door. "Then be a friend, and leave me alone, all right?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Searching for somewhere to cool his aching head, Adam took refuge in the kitchen. He ran the tap until it was icy cold, and filled a tumbler with water. _Little sips. Careful breaths._ The lab rat was startled to find that his hands were shaking. _What's wrong with me?_

"Sleep," he sighed. "I need to sleep." Last night, yet again, he felt a presence in the darkness, as he wound his way home from the Avalon hotel. The strain was really beginning to affect him. Adam looked up as Stella walked into the room.

He opened his mouth, and she held up her hand.

"Coffee," she said. "I'm in desperate need. Give me a minute, Adam."

"Sure," he mumbled. Leaning against the counter, he sipped at his glass of water. Stella breezed around the kitchen, flipping the switch on the kettle and pulling a mug from the cupboard overhead.

_How can anyone be so graceful just making coffee?_ sighed Adam. Clumsiness was all he ever achieved. The only time he felt graceful was on the ice, playing hockey. But since he started at the lab a year ago, he'd hardly had time for anything but work.

_Maybe that's the problem. Stress is making me crazy,_ sighed the lab rat. _I've certainly never snapped at so many people in such a short space of time._

Steam rose from the kettle and Stella poured the boiling water into her mug. As she cradled the precious drink in both hands, Adam tried again.

"Can I ask you something?" Putting the glass down, he wondered how to continue. Stella waited, sipping her coffee. _You promised, _said a voice in his head. _I know,_ he replied. _And I'm not going to break it. Trust me._

"Adam?" prompted Stella, at last.

"Okay," he breathed, jumping straight in with both feet. "I've got this friend, you see... well, she's a little girl... and I think that she might be in trouble. Um, well, not trouble, exactly... She seems pretty happy, in fact, but she's living somewhere she shouldn't..."

"You mean she's homeless?" Stella frowned as she tried to follow his urgent, tumbling speech.

"Oh. Well. Yes. I mean, no... she has a home, okay, it's just not a proper one, like a house, or an apartment. And I haven't seen her parents..."

"Adam. Where does she live?"

"I can't tell you," he faltered, looking down at his hands. "I gave her my word."

Stella sighed. "I'm afraid you might have to break it. This sounds like a case for social services."

"But Stella..." Adam's face was bleak. _I can't do that,_ he thought. _Break a child's trust? I wish I'd never started this conversation._

"Look," said Stella, gently. "You think the system is hard? Well, sometimes it is - believe me, I know. But mostly it's there to help. If this girl is alone, you can't leave her. Surely you see that?"

Caught between logic and instinct, the lab rat floundered. "I just... she trusts me, Stella."

"I get that, Adam." She held him with her deep eyes. "But doing nothing? That's the way to let her down. In time, she'll understand."

_She won't._ Stubbornly, he clenched his fists and tried to turn away. As he did so, there was a chime from Stella's phone. She flipped it open, releasing him from her gaze.

"That's Sid," she grimaced. "A decomposing body - just the thing for an early morning pick-me-up." Reaching out, she laid a hand on his arm. "Look - find me later, okay? We'll talk about your friend some more. I promise."

_I promise. So easy to say. So easy to break..._ Adam nodded blankly. "Sure thing, Stella," he told her, as lightly as he could.

They left the kitchen side by side, but went their separate ways - Stella down to autopsy, and Adam to the empty locker room.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**A/N:** Did you think that I'd forgotten her? Of course not! I just had to wait for the right moment...

As I don't live in the US, I haven't seen the premiere of season 9 yet (aaargh!), but I assume by the pictures online that Adam can play ice hockey as well as the street version ('Green Piece'). Besides, this is my story. And I say he can!

Thanks as always for all of your reviews/follows, etc. More soon! (Hopefully tomorrow)

And, Mahala? So sorry! Glad to hear you're writing another fic, though.


	10. Chapter 10

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Ten**

_**Now...**_

_Adam dozed._

_A yawning cavern opened in his mind. He climbed towards it, even though he knew that he wasn't supposed to. Something bad was waiting for him there, huddled in the darkness, watching... _

_Eyes. Everywhere, staring at him..._

_Jolting awake, he found to his dismay that the darkness had followed him back - and now the cold was creeping in as well. Hugging his knees, he shivered._

_"Hold on," said Mac. "I promise, Adam. I'll find you."_

_"I wish I could believe you," the lab rat whispered mournfully._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Then...**

The rest of Adam's morning was spent in a frantic game of ducking and diving. It would have been funny, were it not for the weariness that dragged him down and made him wish to be anywhere but there. The locker room was a welcome hiding place. Every now and then, he would return to the quiet bench and gather his thoughts. He didn't want to blow up at anyone else, but he felt so on edge it was really quite alarming.

Fortunately, that afternoon, he ended up in Trace with Lindsay. She was unusually quiet as well, and so they worked together in grateful silence, each one relieved by the lack of conversation. Now and then, she rubbed at the scar on her hand - memento of an unexpected encounter with a snake. _Guess I'm not the only one__ feeling low,_ thought Adam sympathetically.

"You okay?" he asked her, passing by on his way to the microscope.

"I'm fine," she smiled - though her eyes were distant. Focussing at last, she caught his expression. "How about you? You're looking a little peaky."

"Oh - I'm fine too. Just tired." Adam grinned back. He was fond of Lindsay. She was so easy to be with.

Finally, his shift came to an end. Adam filed his last report and bolted from the building - away from Danny, away from Stella - and back to the Avalon. For the first time that day, his spirits lifted. The thought of seeing Leyla again was a truly happy one.

Trudging through the slush, he slipped and slid his way around the side of the old hotel. Nobody saw him. The wind was cold, and the night was falling fast. It seemed to Adam as though he were the only person in the world. Even his shadow had left him behind. _I'm all alone,_ he thought, wildly. Right now, that wasn't a bad thing. He felt giddy, and free, as he headed for the broken door and the secret world within.

Pushing through, he let his eyes adjust to the gloom. _Should have brought a torch, you fool. _Nervous now without his guide, he shuffled down the corridor, trying to remember where to go.

Several wrong turns later, he heaved a sigh of relief as he popped out into the foyer. The stillness was as startling as ever. Moving across the wide, empty space, the lab rat felt a sudden chill. He lifted his eyes. An open mouth gaped down at him, the darkness at the top of the sweeping staircase.

Adam turned.

He couldn't help it. Perhaps it was his puzzle-loving instinct. Or maybe it was morbid curiosity - the fatal human need to look behind him.

_Just a peek,_ he thought. _What harm could it do? Leyla isn't here, so she won't be frightened._

His breath came quickly now, as he stood at the bottom gazing up. Somehow, in his tired brain, he believed that, if he accepted this challenge, his fears would vanish and everything would be fine. Adam the Hero, on a quest to find his courage at last.

It didn't take him long to discover the stairway's first secret. Beneath the worn red carpet and the choking layer of dust, the boards were so rotten that every step became a likely pitfall. Adam moved to the edge and clung to the balustrade, sliding his palm along the greasy wood. And still he climbed.

The higher he rose, the more the foyer melted into darkness. Now he was stranded in between two shadowy realms. _What am I doing?_ he wondered, suddenly. Clutching at the rail with both hands, he trembled as a wave of vertigo slammed right into him. It knocked him backwards, and he sat down. "Go home, Adam," he whispered. "This is wrong."

But then he heard voices.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Stella stalked the corridors. Her stride was full of purpose and she glared through every window. Mac watched from his desk. A tiny smile played upon his lips. As she passed his doorway for the second time, he called to her.

"Stella. Come on. You're wearing me out. Who are you looking for?"

She marched into his room and, for a fleeting moment, he wished he hadn't bothered her. Clutching her little finger - an unconscious habit - she stared at him with deep annoyance.

"Hey," he protested, raising his hands. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it, okay?"

"I know. It's not you." She softened slightly. "It's Adam."

"Adam Ross?"

"Who else?" Stella shook her head and took the chair that he offered her. "He asked for my help, so I promised to talk with him. But now he's disappeared on me. No one's seen him for ages."

"Isn't his shift over?" Mac said mildly.

"Mac." His colleague gave him a look. "This is Adam. When does he ever leave here on time?" She smiled, as she glanced at the clock. "Perhaps he takes his example from the boss..."

"All right. You've made your point." Mac sighed. "What did he want to talk to you about?"

Stella seemed cagey. "I'm not sure he wanted everyone to know. It's about a friend of his. A little girl..."

"A little girl?" The shadow of a memory crossed his mind. "I think I've seen her."

"Really?" She leaned towards him. "Where?"

"At the crime scene in Brooklyn. On Monday." Mac grinned. "He fell in the snow. She helped him up."

"Then that's where they met."

"I don't think so, Stella. He'd seen her before, I'm sure of it. There was something..."

Stella shook her head. "Mac, he thought that she might be in trouble. She's living rough, and Adam knows where, but he wouldn't tell me. He'd promised her - and he wouldn't break his promise."

"That does sound like him," his boss said softly. Stella looked unsympathetic.

"Well, I told him that he'd have to, sooner or later. The girl needs help."

"And now he's gone without talking to you?" Mac raised his eyebrows. "Are you really surprised?"

She pulled back, startled. Finally, she laughed. "No, I guess I'm not. But what shall we do?"

"I'd say that Adam is the one to be asking that question right now. Give him time," suggested Mac. "He's got good instincts. When he's ready for your help, he'll come back to you."

"I truly hope so," Stella sighed. "No one should play around with the life of a child."

"Or their trust," said Mac, quietly. "Adam knows what he's doing. Wait and see."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**A/N:** As I mentioned at the beginning, this story is set in the middle of Season Three (because Season 3 Adam was perfect for it). The first couple of chapters take place before 'Obsession' (the Idiotrun case in the park, when Danny calls Adam a 'cupcake' because he hates the cold). Several days pass whilst Adam is looking for Leyla, in order to give her the doll. I'm assuming that 'Obsession' happens here. The rest lies between that and 'The Lying Game' (when Lindsay goes back to Montana for the trial). Which explains Lindsay's state of mind, of course. In case you were wondering.


	11. Chapter 11

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Eleven**

_**Now...**_

_"Do you believe in ghosts?"_

_"Do you?" said Mac._

_Adam sighed. "I don't know. What if... what if time is like a piece of string, okay? Hold it straight, and everything flows normally. Tangle it up, and the past comes back to haunt you."_

_"Sounds like science fiction to me," grinned his boss. "Who tangled your string?"_

_"I did." Adam bit his lip. "I let my imagination run away with me. It seemed as though..."_

_"As though...?" Mac prompted._

_"As though she'd come back to me. Alice. Like a second chance. To make things right, you know?"_

_"Adam. Leyla's real. She's not a ghost."_

_"Look who's talking," said the lab rat archly._

_"Are you calling me a spirit?" asked his boss, with some amusement. "Next you'll be asking me to walk through this wall."_

_"At least that would be useful." Adam managed a tiny grin. "You could go haunt Detective Flack, or Danny, and get me some help..."_

_"I'm so sorry, Adam. You had it right the first time. I'm just a figment of your imagination."_

_The lab rat curled up tighter. "Doesn't matter, really. Turns out, I'm kinda glad you're here..."_

_"Even though you'd rather I was Stella?"_

_Adam hid his red cheeks in the darkness._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Then...**

Up or down?

Adam made a hurried decision, based on little more than his own curiosity. After all, it had dragged him this far. Leyla was frightened of something, and he needed to know what it was. Rising to his feet, he tiptoed all the way up the stairs to the first floor corridor. There, he paused, and listened.

There were several voices, talking loudly, and they seemed to be coming from the left. Adam peered around the corner. In the distance, he could see an open door - probably leading to one of the bedrooms. Light crept out into the corridor. It was a weak, unhappy glow, shuddering with the strain of trying to hold back so much darkness.

Adam stumbled closer, moving from one recessed doorway to the next. He tried not to make any noise, but it was difficult. He'd never been that good at sneaking up on people. Not like his boss... Pausing for a moment to gather his nerves, Adam couldn't help giving a little smile at the thought. How many times had he turned around, only to learn that Mac had caught him doing something stupid yet again?

Oddly, the lab rat found himself wishing for Mac right now. _Maybe I should have talked to him,_ he realised. _I'll go tomorrow, and tell him everything._ Full of guilt, he shook his head. _Someone else ought to know. I can't handle this all by myself._

Too late right now, though. Fixing his eyes on the sickly glow, Adam made it all the way down the corridor to the doorway. His heart was thudding in his chest as he leant against the wall. The voices were clear by now, and he could make out every word. Closing his eyes, he tried to guess at the face that might go with each one - but all he could see in his head were trolls and monsters. _Leyla!_ he groaned, trying to stifle a giggle. Sometimes, imagination was such a curse.

"No!" said the loudest voice, deep and strong, with a celtic lilt beneath his New York accent. Adam pictured a burly muscled giant, shaking his club in a threatening manner as everyone cowered before him. "You'll do as I say, d'you hear? No debating now - you're in, and there's no backing out."

"But Maddox," whined a second voice. This one was young, Adam could tell. An immature creature, wary of its companions but, at the same time, desperate to please. "Won't it be dangerous?"

"Are you scared?" sneered Maddox, softening his tones, but not in a friendly way. Around him, there was a rumble of ugly laughter, peppered with random insults.

"No - no, I'm not." The denial was hasty - _too hasty_, Adam guessed. Fear was behind every word. He almost felt sorry for the unseen character. "I'll do it, Maddox. Honest. I don't know what came over me."

"Then you'll need this."

Drawn by the sudden silence, Adam peered through the crack where the hinges met the doorframe.

The first thing he saw was the gun.

_Who are these people?_ Drawing back in fright, he caught his foot on a hole in the carpet. Fortunately, he didn't fall. Unfortunately, he couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped from his lips. Clapping his hand over his mouth, far too late, he stared at the doorway with horrified eyes.

_Run!_ screamed his brain.

He turned, and fled down the corridor.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Mac. You got a minute?"

"For you, Don, two."

Detective Flack inched into the office. Reticence wasn't usually a word that Mac associated with the man. Clearly, something was bothering him. Peering through the glass, he saw Danny hovering further down the corridor.

"It's that lab tech of yours. Adam Ross?"

_How strange,_ thought Mac. "Don't tell me. He's disappeared on you as well?" To his surprise, the joke fell flat, as Don stared back at him in shock.

"What?"

"Stella was looking for him. Said he'd promised to talk to her, but she couldn't find him. Why? What did he do to you?"

Don shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. "He told me something, yesterday. In confidence, I think. But... well, I messed up, and when he left me, he was upset. I went to his apartment with Danny, to sort things out - but he wasn't there. Just now, we tried to ring him. You know, invite him for a drink, get him loosened up and talk things over? But his phone's turned off. And my gut is churning, Mac. You know how that goes. It won't let me be 'til I've found him and sorted this out."

Mac considered, sorting through the jumble of Don's confession. "This thing Adam told you," he said at last. "Was it about a child? A little girl?"

"A...? No. At least, I don't think so. I never quite got to the bottom of it." Don took a deep breath. He hated breaking anyone's trust. Right now, however, it felt like the right thing to do. "Mac, he told me that somebody's following him."

"What?" Mac sat up sharply. "Did you believe him?"

"I..." Don shook his head. "God, I don't know. This whole thing is just ridiculous."

"Was he scared?"

"Yes, Mac, he was scared."

Rising from his chair, Mac grabbed his jacket.

"Then the answer is simple, Don. We need to find him."


	12. Chapter 12

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Twelve**

_**Now...**_

_Adam was dreaming of hot dogs._

_Smiling to himself, he pictured them, piled high on a plate. After all, if he was going to hallucinate, he might as well enjoy himself, right? Trouble was, the more he thought about food, the worse his hunger became._

_"Stop torturing yourself," advised his boss._

_Adam frowned, and the plate vanished into the darkness. "Thanks," he grumbled. "At least they looked good."_

_"Too good," said Mac. "You're drooling."_

_Adam swiped at his mouth in dismay - only to find that it was dry. "Ha ha," he said. "There's not enough water left in my mouth to spit with, never mind drool."_

_"Got you, though," said the vision, mildly._

_"Yes. You're hilarious. I'm so amused." Hunger always made Adam cranky. Sounding off at his boss, however imaginary, made him feel better._

_For a little while, at least._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Then...**

Behind him, Adam heard footsteps and angry voices. Too scared to turn around, he ran at full tilt through the darkness. He would have gone right past the staircase in his fear - were it not for the tiny light that quivered there, and an urgent whisper.

"Adam!"

"Leyla," he gasped, skidding to a halt and changing direction. He grabbed her free hand. It was cold, and shaking. "What...?"

"No time," she hissed. "Come on, stupid."

A wild laugh tore from his throat. Leyla tightened her grip and began to drag him down the stairs. The footsteps grew louder. Adam could hear the blood pounding in his ears as they ran together, side by side, two steps at a time until they landed, hard, at the bottom. The shock raced from the soles of his feet right up into his spine - but there was no time to recover. Safe in her own world now, the girl blew out the candle and led him away from danger. Before long, all they could hear were distant echoes, far behind them. Adam paused and bent over, struggling to breathe. Leyla turned on him angrily.

"Why did you do that?" she hissed.

"I wa... I wanted to see," panted Adam. "You were scared. I wanted to help you."

"How did you help me?" the girl demanded, full of fire. "They saw you. And they almost saw me."

He straightened up. "I'm sorry," he told her, eyes wide in the gloom. "I didn't mean to make things worse. But... you came to rescue me. How did you know?"

"I heard you." Leyla turned away, and began to walk down the corridor. Adam trotted after her. "Climbing up the stairs, when I went past. I knew they were there, so I couldn't shout. I went and got a candle. By the time I found you, it was too late. Why did you let them see you?" She stopped again, and he almost bumped into her. "They would have hurt you. Don't you know that?"

"I do," he said grimly. "I saw the gun."

This time, it was Leyla who was startled. "The gun?" she breathed. "What gun?"

Adam laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. _I shouldn't have mentioned it. Now she'll be even more frightened. _"This is silly," he said, trying to distract her. "Arguing in the dark. Let's go to your room. We'll be safe there."

"I know," she said. "That's the point." But she slipped her fingers back into his when he offered them. Adam guessed that he was close to being forgiven.

In hopeful silence, they hurried down the final corridors to Leyla's sanctuary. Reaching the door, she pushed it open a little too quickly. Adam looked down and saw that she was staring up at him with an eager face. "I made this for you," she said. "Because of the stories. It's a thank you. Do you like it?"

Turning his gaze on the candlelit room, Adam smiled and his heart grew warm.

Leyla had spread a blanket on the floor, like a picnic rug. Scattered across it was all of her precious food supply - bottles of juice, and chocolate bars, and crisps, and muffins, and apples. Moving closer, Adam saw that there was also a card. On the front, she had drawn a picture, copying his style as much as she could. "That looks just like me," he told her. Leyla blushed at the praise. Picking it up, he read the message inside.

_To Adam. Your my best frend. Love from Leyla._

Swallowing hard, he managed to keep his face straight. "That's the nicest card I've had in a long time," he told her - and he meant it.

"Okay," said Leyla, shy by now. She dropped down onto the rug. "Want some chocolate?"

"I'd love some."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Much later, stuffed with junk food until he was close to being sick, Adam leaned back against a wall and grinned at Leyla sleepily. "Consider the stories paid for," he told her. "Not that you needed to do this. I had fun telling them."

"You know so many," she smiled back. "I thought you didn't like stories. Where did you get them from?"

Adam closed his eyes, fighting against his compulsion to hide from the past. "My sister," he told her, with an effort. "Alice."

"The one with the doll?"

"The one with the doll."

Leyla looked at him shrewdly. "But you've got it now. And you gave it to me. So, where is she?"

Instead of giving the girl a direct answer, Adam turned and stared at the little pile of memories on her nightstand. "Where's your mother?" he asked her softly.

"She's resting," said Leyla, just as she had when he met her. And suddenly, Adam heard it. The meaning behind her words.

"Just like Alice," he said.

"Oh." The girl's eyes grew huge in the candlelight. For a long while, Leyla didn't say anything else. Adam waited. The dancing flames grew lower, and the shadows crept in slowly.

"I have another sister," he told her at last, to break the silence. "And a brother. But they're much older than me, and I don't see them any more. I... I miss Alice."

Leyla shuffled closer on the blanket. "I could be your sister," she said, trying to fix the hurt that she saw in his face.

For once, Adam was lost for words. His brain floundered, weary and astonished. "O-okay," he whispered finally. How could he say no? It was such a kind and innocent offer. "Leyla, I'm tired," he added, rubbing his eyes. "I need to go home now. Do you mind?"

Leyla pouted. "Stay," she said. "It's dark outside, and scary. You could sleep here."

"No." He shook his head, but exhaustion was claiming him even now and he knew he would never make it back all by himself.

"Yes," she insisted.

"'Kay," said the lab rat, giving in. "But not in your room. 'S not right."

Nodding, she pulled him up from the floor. He rose in a dream, and followed her willingly. Out of the room and down the corridor. Through another door, where it was dark, and warm, and... God, he was so tired.

Adam lay down, as Leyla nodded happily. "Good night," she whispered. "Sleep tight. You're safe here, Adam. I promise." Her face loomed over him, fuzzy and pale. Then it disappeared. The last thing he saw was the door being closed.

He never heard her draw the bolts across.


	13. Chapter 13

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Thirteen**

_**Now...**_

_The dryness in Adam's throat was getting worse. Stubbornly, he ignored it, trying not to count the increasing number of times he swallowed in a minute. Talking was harder, too, but the silence was unbearable. "And after all, I am Adam," he croaked. "It's what I do, right, boss?"_

_"If you say so. Personally, I don't think you say enough."_

_"I beg your... what?"_

_Mac stared at him through the darkness._

_"You know what I mean. How do you think you got into this mess in the first place?"_

_Adam's tone became sullen._

_"I tried to talk to them. Detective Flack, and Stella."_

_"But you never gave them a chance to understand. You jumped at their first reaction. Then you ran and hid. It's what you do."_

_"Wh- what?" Fantastic. Now his own imagination was scolding him._

_"Besides, I don't just mean Don and Stella. What about the others?"_

_Adam turned his back, but that didn't stop the relentless voice - or his sudden, cold flash of understanding._

_They asked me._

_All of them._

_And I pushed them away._

_Why did I do that?_

_No wonder I'm all alone._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Then...**

"Strike two," muttered Don Flack, staring at Adam's door in disgust. _And a serious case of déjà vu._ "What happens now?"

"Standard police procedure," said Mac firmly. "We do some canvassing."

Three doors down, he finally got an answer. Behind a faded blue door marked "6E", Mac heard the rattle of a safety chain. A crack appeared, and a pair of dark brown eyes. "Who are you?" a young man's voice demanded. His manner was abrasive, but Don could hear the nervous tremor behind his false bravado.

"NYPD." Mac lifted his badge. "I wondered if we could ask you a couple of questions?"

"You promise that thing's real?"

"I promise."

Coughing slightly, the man shut his door again and removed the chain. The crack reappeared.

"A little wider would be nice," sighed Don. "Do we really look that sinister to you?"

"I guess not." The door opened wide, but the young man continued to block their way into his apartment. He was pale and slim, not more than twenty years old if Don's guess was correct. The line between his eyebrows spoke of too many hours spent poring over text. His clothes were rumpled, and not quite fashionable.

"What's your name, son?" said Mac.

"Coll MacPherson." Twitching crossly, the young man folded his arms. "What's this about? I'm very busy."

"We won't keep you for long. Do you know the person who lives in number 9?"

_Duh,_ said the young man's face. "You mean Adam Ross."

Don looked surprised. There wasn't one person on his floor who knew his first name. And Ross didn't strike him as the sociable type. _You live and learn, I guess,_ he thought, as Mac continued his questions.

"Seen him lately?"

"Not for a couple of days." Coll frowned, and the line on his forehead deepened. "Which is odd - because we have a date. Not _that_ kind of date," he added sharply, seeing the look that hovered on Don's face. "He helps me out. With my studies. Chemistry, and maths. Twice a week, whenever he's finished at work." Coll paused, and stared at them. "Which is with you guys, I'm guessing. Why? Has something happened to him?"

"Of course not, no. We're just worried about him. He's got some... issues. We'd like to try and find him. Any idea where he might be?"

"I'm not his social secretary."

Don tried not to let his temper rise, but Coll's manner was infuriating. _Arrogance,_ he thought. _Not a fan._ "Okay - but do you know if he has any friends in the area? Favourite haunts? Regular grocery store?"

"Not a clue." Coll shrugged. "I don't get out much. I can tell you Adam keeps pretty much to himself as well. He works so late these days, his friends stopped coming round because they could never find him in. Guess you know how _that_ feels..."

"Yes. Thanks." The tightness in Mac's voice made Don feel better. Not just him, then. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"About two nights ago, in the corridor. He'd just got home, and it was late. He looked... nervous. More than usual, you know? And kinda tired. I mean, really tired. Like he hadn't slept in days." Watching their faces, Coll looked penitent. "Look, I'm sorry I can't be more helpful. Adam's a good guy. But I don't know him that well. The only place that I know he goes to is Bartlett's, three blocks over. It's a grocery store. He brought me some books the other week, and the bag he used had a logo on it."

"Good," said Mac, and he meant it. "That's a start. Thank you, Coll. Please call us if you think of anything else."

"Or if you see Adam," Don interjected, passing over his card. Coll took it and shoved it into his pocket.

"Can I go now?" sighed the man. Already, he was toying with the handle, eager to be rid of them. Mac gave a nod, and turned away. The door slammed shut behind him and the chain slid into place.

"Did that get us anywhere?" groaned Don. Mac gave a shrug.

"We'll see."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The trail they followed was tenuous, but Mac refused to give in. Like Don, his gut was churning. At Bartlett's, the cashier thought that she recognised Adam from his description. "He comes in at the weekend," she said, pushing her heavy, asymmetric fringe out of her eyes. Don stared in fascination at the long black nails, and the silver rings that claimed every finger. "Saw him the other day, too. He was with a girl, I think. Round by 'Demolition Row'."

"Young girl, or older?" Don peered down at her nametag. "Rose..."

She pulled a wry face. "Don't go flashing those blue eyes at me. I've got a boyfriend, all right, and he's the jealous type."

Mac stifled a laugh as Don stepped back. Rose giggled too. "A young girl," she continued. "Like, a kid. Eleven, or twelve maybe? Red hair, skinny. Looked like they knew each other."

"Thank you," said Mac. "And 'Demolition Row' would be...?"

"Hanson Street." Rose pointed through the window. "That way. You guys going to buy anything?"

Don picked up a chocolate bar and threw some cash on the counter. "Thanks," he said stiffly. "You've been a big help."

Still grinning, Mac followed his friend out of the door.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hanson Street was long, and looked deserted. "Why would Adam be here?" asked Don, as he pulled the car up beside an empty apartment block.

Mac's face was thoughtful. "Stella told me that Adam spoke to her about a girl who was living rough. What if the girl lives here somewhere? Adam could be with her right now."

"Okay, but we can't just break into all of these buildings. We're cops, remember?" Don tore the wrapper off his chocolate bar and took a huge bite. "'M starving," he said, defensively, when he noticed Mac staring at him. Holding the bar out, he grinned around his mouthful. "Want some?"

"No. Thank you." Mac waved his hand away. He peered through the windshield, out into the darkness. Most of the streetlights had been smashed or torn down altogether. Here and there, a tiny island of light shone bravely, making its last stand against the encroaching decay.

"Care to take a walk with me?" he said.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews! So excited that I managed to catch people out in the last chapter. I was trying really hard to get that just right.


	14. Chapter 14

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Fourteen**

_**Now...**_

_A knot was tightening inside Adam's head. Gasping in pain, he slid to the floor and curled up on the linoleum in a ball._

_Mac watched in silence._

_"I feel sick," moaned Adam._

_"Tell me about your sister," said Mac quietly._

_Like a soothing balm, her face appeared before him._

_Alice._

_A single tear fell sideways from the corner of his eye; one of the very few he had ever shed for her._

_He gazed up at Mac, but the words wouldn't come. It was just too hard. _

_Your fault, said a voice inside his head. An older voice. A man's voice._

_Go away, thought Adam. I don't want you here._

_His fingers tightened around his knees, as though pressure could drive the demons away._

_"Help me," he begged; to Alice, to Mac, to anyone..._

_But the darkness closed in, and deep down he knew he was talking to himself._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Then...**

The night was bitterly cold. White breath plumed from their open mouths, as Don and Mac explored the forgotten street. At first glance, it seemed utterly abandoned. But, after a while, their eyes grew used to the shadows and they realised that signs of life were everywhere. An old pile of blankets, rolled up and stored in a doorway. A shopping cart, filled with papers and empty bottles. Shelters, propped up against the crumbling brickwork - an illusion of safety for the restless souls that slumbered within. "Kingdom of the lost," muttered Mac with naked sympathy, his turn of phrase unusually poetic.

"Safety in numbers," was Don's more practical comment, as he tried to keep the beam of his torch from straying into their makeshift privacy.

Hanson Street was longer than they had realised from the comfort of their car. They walked along it aimlessly, not really certain what they were looking for. "This is hopeless," sighed Don at last. "Ross is probably back at home by now, tucked up safely in bed. Just like we ought to be. We're on a fool's errand."

Mac paused, full of indecision. It really was quite late by now, and he had an early start the following morning. Don had a point, and his aching legs, wet with snow, made him think that perhaps it was a good one. Bother Adam. And bother his own ridiculous conscience. This whole incident could be nothing more than a misunderstanding. Tomorrow he would grab the young lab tech, steer him into his office and demand a full explanation. Tonight, there was little more that they could do.

So, why did he still feel guilty?

Ignoring his qualms, he nodded to the detective. Together, they turned around and set off on the long trek back to their car.

Passing by an old, abandoned hotel, they were startled by two figures, struggling violently. One was tall, and hooded. The other was small, and full of desperate fury. "Let go," cried a young girl's voice - and, instantly, both detectives began to run. When the hooded figure saw them bearing down on him, he released the thing that he had been holding and tore off into the night. The girl was slower. Before she knew quite what had happened, she found herself alone with two breathless strangers.

"Go away," she begged them, clutching at the object in her hand with shaking fingers.

Don looked down in horror. "Gun," he hissed.

Both men fell back.

_A child with a weapon,_ thought Mac, distraught. What was this city coming to? Peering at the girl, whose pale face was caught in the very edge of Don's lowered torch beam, he felt a sudden stab of recognition.

It was her.

The very child they were looking for. The one he had seen with Adam.

Standing right in front of them.

With a gun.

Frozen in a tableau of fear, they studied each other with darting, wary eyes. Mac knew that his next move was critical. Holding both hands out to the side, he gave what he hoped was a harmless smile.

"I've seen you before," he said. "Talking to Adam."

Both Don and the girl stared back at him in shock.

_This is her?_ mouthed Flack.

"Don't be afraid," Mac continued. "We're with the NYPD. We won't hurt you. But you need to give me that gun."

She shook her head mutely. The weapon lurched in her sweating grip. She did not point it at them, but both men looked wary, and that frightened her. Fear turned into defensiveness, as she backed into the wall like a cornered animal.

"What's your name?" asked Don. Sometimes, the simplest questions were the safest.

The girl shook her head, red curls trembling violently.

"Okay," said the detective. "My name's Don, and this is Mac. I know he looks a little grumpy, but he's a good guy, just like me."

Mac reached out his hand. "Please. Give me the gun. You don't want to hurt yourself." _Or us,_ he added, silently. He crouched down in front of her, trying to seem less threatening. With the other hand, he pulled out his badge. "I'm telling the truth. You can trust me."

Distracted for a moment by the shining talisman, the young girl loosened her grip on the gun. Faster than thought, Mac's hand shot out and took it. "Hey!" she cried. But it was too late. She tried to bolt, but Don grabbed her arm.

"I think you need to come with us," he insisted, as he clung to the struggling, angry child.

"Please," added Mac, aware that he had deceived her. "We need your help. And maybe we can help you in return."

The girl scowled, growing limp in Don's grasp. Now she was little more than a dead weight, her knees dropping into the snow. _Stubborn,_ thought Mac, feeling oddly impressed.

This wasn't going to be easy.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"That's her?" said Stella, peering through the glass. Mac had called her back in, and she had come running, even though it was almost one o'clock in the morning by now.

"That's her," Don nodded, eyeing the closed face and the tilted jaw. The girl had dark circles under her eyes, and her shoulders were weary. On the other side of the table, Mac was equally exhausted. For over an hour, he had tried to get through to the child, with little success. Her silence was a wall, and he could not breach it. In the corner of the room sat a stout and homely woman. Her work clothes had clearly been thrown back on in a hurry, and her hair had been dragged to the nape of her neck in a messy bundle, secured there with a dog-eared yellow scrunchie. Stray ends dangled across her face. Now and then, she blew them away with a tiny puff of air. For quite some time, that had been the only sound in the room - until Mac's voice made her jump and sit up properly.

"Look - this is important. We can't find Adam," said the detective, starting all over again. "He never made it home. Do you know where he is?"

_What's it to you?_ the girl's eyes challenged him. She folded her arms, and stifled a tiny yawn.

"He's my friend, you see," Mac continued. "I think he might be in trouble, and I'm worried about him."

"He's not your friend," said the girl, at last. Behind the window, Don and Stella gasped. Mac kept his own face straight, and reasonable.

"What makes you say that?"

"I bet you don't know anything about him." Frowning, she continued proudly. "What's his favourite story? What does he like to do? What's the name of his sister - the one that died?" She shook her head. "Adam's my friend, not yours."

Stunned by her unexpected tirade, Mac was lost for words. Risking a glance across at his hidden colleagues, his message was clear. _Find me something._ Deep down, he was troubled. The girl's accusation was full of childish logic, but it stung. Just how well _did_ he know Adam? Here he was, trying to meddle in another man's life. Calling him a friend, with thoughtless ease. _I hardly know him at all,_ Mac realised, feeling uncomfortable.

Staring back at the young girl, he nodded his head. "Maybe you're right," he said. "I don't know all those things. But that doesn't mean I don't care about him. Please, can you tell me? Where do you think he might be? The man who attacked you - did he take him?"

But the girl was clever. Turning around, she spoke to the woman who sat behind her. "I'm so tired," she sighed. "It's very late. Can't I go to bed? I don't want any more questions."

When Mac saw steel in the frumpy woman's gaze, he knew that the girl had won.

"Then please - just tell me one more thing for now," he asked, as she stood up, ready to leave. "It's a simple request. You know my name. What's yours?"

"I'm Leyla," she said, as she left the room, safe in the arms of her keeper.


	15. Chapter 15

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Fifteen**

_**Now...**_

_Late summer sun._

_The sound of rubber, spinning along the sidewalk._

_Short legs, pumping._

_The pack bouncing up and down on his back._

_"Adam!" cried a frantic voice in the distance. Footsteps rang out behind him, not heavy, but urgent._

_"No!" yelled the little boy, stubbornly._

_No..._

_I don't want this memory._

_Adam tried to push it away. But the footsteps were relentless; every step an accusation hammering in his brain..._

_"Let it come," said Mac._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Then...**

Danny stared down at the gun in Don's hands, appalled.

"A little girl had this?" he demanded, snatching it up and feeling the awful weight.

"We think that she was wrestling it from her attacker." Don grimaced. "Not good, I know. Get me a history, Danny. Or fingerprints. That'd be even better."

"And Adam? You hear anything from him?" Danny looked at his watch in frustration. Half past two in the morning. He'd tried going back to his apartment, but sleep was impossible. Don's call had found him wide awake, and desperate for something to do.

"Still not home. I've been ringing, every half hour. And the little girl's not talking, I'm afraid. Leyla..." He rolled the name around his mouth, trying it out with a thoughtful expression.

"You think she knows who's been followin' him?"

"I think she knows plenty. But she's not sayin'. Mac tried, but Social Services took her away. They're bringing her back when she's rested."

"Then I'd better get to work." Danny yawned, and then gave his friend a sheepish grin. "Been a long night," he confessed.

Don's eyes were bleary too. "I know," he sighed. "And it's about to get longer. I tell you, if Adam waltzes in here later for his shift, there's gonna be some angry people waitin' for him - and I'll be first in line."

The CSI shook his head. "If Adam waltzes in here later, that's fine by me. I couldn't be happier. But somehow, Don, I don't think he will. And I'm guessin', neither do you."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Stella felt guilty, almost like a voyeur, as she turned the pages of Adam's file. Most of it was bland and factual - college transcripts, past experience - but tucked away at the back was something she wished she hadn't seen. His mandatory psych evaluation, carried out as soon as Mac accepted him for the post.

_Can't have crazy people working here, right?_ she sighed, as she turned the pages. Her own ordeal had been memorable - angry resistance at first, leading to frank admissions and, in the end, catharsis. Clearly, Adam had passed as well - but only just. Reading between the lines, she guessed that the future lab tech had been deliberately vague, masking his true feelings behind the usual tomfoolery and charm that he displayed every day at work. No word was said about his childhood, or any kind of death in the family. Somehow, with the skill of a master, Adam had evaded all personal questions, leading the doctor a merry dance through bluster and confusion until he reached his college days when, all at once, he opened up quite happily.

The doctor had relented, seeing in this man a broken heart that he had dealt with in his own erratic way. She let him pass, honouring his strength of will. Down at the very bottom of the report, however, was her final mandate.

_Evaluation must be repeated annually. No refusal._

The last sheet was signed by the doctor, and countersigned by Mac.

Sitting back and rubbing her temples with a careful, circular motion, Stella considered just what she had learned about Adam Ross in the past half hour.

It wasn't much.

Parents' names. Harriet and Charles.

SAT score - off the charts. Stella knew that the man was bright, but really...

Glowing reports from college professors. Evidence of a hard-working, highly motivated man. And yet...

And yet, there was such an enormous gap that it took her breath away.

Pushing the file to one side, Stella swung the chair round and reached for her keyboard.

Time to dig a little deeper.

Two hours later, she found it.

Snatching the flash drive from her computer, she marched along to Mac's darkened office. The man was taking a hurried, restless nap on his couch. Stella hated waking him up, but she did it anyway.

Mac rubbed his eyes and sat up, scowling.

"Not a morning person?" said Stella, trying to make him smile.

"What did you expect?" sighed Mac - but he gave her a wry grin, all the same. "Got something?"

"Yes." She plugged in the tiny device and let the information bloom across his screen.

Mac stared in dismay.

Another piece of the puzzle. And now he was beginning to understand.

The newspaper report was oddly matter of fact, devoid of the usual sentiment and clearly missing some details. "Death of a local child," it simply said. "Alice Georgina Ross. Age ten. Killed by a hit and run driver near her home." The rest was taken up by a quick description of her family, her friends and her interests. There was also a photograph.

"Adam was only seven," noted Stella. "This must have hurt him."

"Ten years old." Mac stared at the picture. "Look at her, Stella. Long, curly hair. Big eyes, white face. Who does she remind you of?"

"I know." The woman looked pained. "Oh, Mac. He must have thought that she had come back to him."

"A second chance..." he murmured, clutching the desk in sudden sympathy. _Adam's deepest wish come true. No wonder he seemed distracted._

"This still doesn't help us find him." Stella watched Mac as he printed out the page.

The detective shook his head.

"Perhaps not. But it might just provide the key to unlocking our young friend's co-operation..."


	16. Chapter 16

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Sixteen**

_**Now...**_

_The late summer sun._

_The sound of his father's voice, raised in anger._

_Adam's thin fingers fumbled with the bolt. He didn't want to make a noise. He didn't want to attract their attention._

_Wrenching it open at last, he slipped through the gate, taking the rusty bicycle with him. As the left pedal spun, it tore the skin on his leg, making him bleed. Inside, something smashed and his father fell silent._

_Adam froze._

_Outside the dream, he whimpered._

_The bitter voice began to rise again. Swallowing hard, the small boy took his courage in both hands and hopped up into the saddle. His backpack was full of everything he thought that he might need. A sweater, some underwear, a couple of chocolate bars and a carton of orange juice. The rest of the space was taken up by a flashlight and his favourite storybooks._

_He didn't plan on coming back. Not for anyone, or anything._

_The bruise across his back had almost healed by now, but it still complained as he started to work the pedals, ticking steadily out of the driveway and onto the sidewalk. No one else was around this early. No one else saw him leave._

_Except for Alice._

_She came out of nowhere, pelting along behind him as he tried to make his desperate bid for freedom. Guilt stretched out with aching fingers, but Adam could not stop. He heard her shouting - heard it still in his dreams, almost every night - but the boy kept on pedalling, faster and faster, until he reached the end of the street and pulled out to cross it, checking both ways, just as she had taught him._

_He never saw it happen._

_But the moment was there in his head, all the same, trapped forever._

_The squeal of brakes, the sickening thud and the coward that drove right past him and never returned._

_Adam's bicycle tilted and his whole world crashed to the ground._

_His only clear memory after that was the look on his parents' faces as the doctor left them reeling._

_Your fault, said the look in his father's eyes._

_His mother's eyes said nothing. Not to him. Not ever again._

_Adam wept._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Then...**

Adam's arrival time came and went. Now they knew for certain. He was missing. The lab rat loved his job and he had never been late, not once, since the day he started.

Waiting around the table, they stared at Mac uncertainly. Sifting through their colleague's life seemed such an intrusion, especially when the young man had worked so hard to keep it a secret.

"What do we have?" asked Don at last, leaning on the doorframe and watching their faces. Somebody had to break the silence. Even Mac was looking strained. _Sleep,_ thought the detective. _That's what we need._ But how could he close his eyes when Ross kept glaring at him, full of disappointment?

"Not enough," said Stella. "That's becoming abundantly clear."

"I disagree." Sheldon turned towards her. "We work with this man every day. And you know what? I think that, if we put our heads together, we might have more than we realise."

"You're right," said Lindsay, sitting quietly behind him. She looked at Danny. "Don't you remember? The locker room?"

Her colleague gave a nervous laugh, as he became the instant focus of everyone's attention. "Thanks, Montana."

"My pleasure," she murmured, smiling.

"What is she talking about?" Mac demanded, ignoring the man's embarrassment in his haste to get at the facts.

"Oh... it's just a little joke I had with Adam the other day..." Danny flushed. "He had this doll in his pocket, see? A tiny thing, and... well, I teased him about it. And he got kind of flustered, like he always does. Then Lindsay came in and asked him to show it to her. Which he did. Though he looked real uncomfortable at the time..."

"He said it belonged to his sister. Then... I guess we got distracted," broke in Lindsay. "And he never said anything more. Except - the doll was meant for a friend. Do you think that was Leyla?"

"I do," said Mac. In his own mind's eye, he pictured the lab rat and the little girl, together in the snow. Something had changed hands between them, he could see that now. It explained the gleeful look on Adam's face, and the spring in his step. "It makes perfect sense. Leyla is a way to fill the void left by his sister. Maybe he feels that, by helping her, he can make the memory less painful."

"Or maybe he's just bein' nice." Don sighed impatiently. "Look. This psychology mumbo-jumbo is all very well. But what we need are facts. Right? You are the science guys, after all..."

"Right," Mac nodded. "Facts about Adam. The doll is a perfect start. Leyla knows something important - I'm sure of that. We need to gain her trust."

"Good luck with that. She looked pretty stubborn to me. What _I'd_ really like to know right now is, who was she fighting with? That seems kind of important, don't you think?"

"I can answer that one."

Rising to his feet, Danny called up the files on screen, obscuring Leyla's face for a moment. "There were three sets of fingerprints on the gun. One set was small, and belongs to the girl. The second set was far too smudged to identify. But the last print - well, that was easy." He brought up a scowling image. "Meet Owen Maddox. Resident thug and all around jackass from Adam's neighbourhood. And the gun - well, you're gonna love this. It belongs to Mrs. Maddox. His grandmother."

"Looks like a regular charmer." Don stared at the solid, boorish face.

"I'm glad you like him," said Mac, wrily. "Looks like you're going to meet him. Go with Danny. Bring him back. I want to know why he thinks it's okay to terrorise little girls."

"What about Adam?" Stella insisted. "Do you think this Maddox might be the stalker?"

"I'll ask him," said Don, with a grin.

"Not too nicely, I hope," muttered Lindsay under her breath, as the two men left the room.

Dropping Maddox back out of sight on the screen, Mac turned and caught them all gazing up at Leyla's picture. Her expression was one of scared defiance, green eyes wide in her narrow, pointed face. "You know," said Sheldon, almost to himself, "Adam captured her perfectly in his drawings."

"What did you say?"

The doctor hastened to explain, as his boss seemed confused and everyone else was looking at him sideways.

"Adam doodles. In his notebook - you know, that little black one he carries around with him. Haven't you seen it? He's amazing."

"Pictures of Leyla, I take it?" said Stella.

Sheldon nodded. "On every page. He almost tore my hand off to get it back, the other day."

"Another detail." Mac folded his arms. "I think this might be just what we need. I want you and Lindsay to go to Adam's apartment. Get the super to let you in. We've still got a couple of hours before Social Services brings the girl back to us. I want as much information as you can find. We need to prove to Leyla that we care about Adam just as much as she does..."


	17. Chapter 17

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Seventeen**

_**Now...**_

_Adam felt drained. A flood of long-held grief had poured out of his body in shuddering sobs. Now there was nothing left but the husk of a lonely man, abandoned on the floor._

_Darkness wrapped itself around him kindly. He curled up even tighter in its embrace._

_"You're wrong, you know." Adam's boss stared down at him._

_Wrong about what?_

_He couldn't bring himself to speak. The words no longer had the power to form in his throat. He felt stiff, and dry, and so tired._

_"Wrong about Alice. It wasn't your fault."_

_Says you._

_Mac knelt beside him._

_"No, Adam. Don't you understand? It's you. Just think it through. You know the truth."_

_The lab rat closed his eyes and turned away._

_My fault. She was following me._

_"Adam. Why were you leaving?"_

_Pain filled his memory, hot and vicious, slamming down at him from every side - a thousand blows, all melting into one._

_I couldn't stand it any more._

_He frightened me._

_And so I ran away. Just like you said._

_I'm a coward._

_"No," said Mac, gently. "Adam, you were a child."_

_I was._

_His blue eyes opened, tear-stained and full of distress._

_Oh, Mac..._

_Oh, Alice._

_I'm so sorry..._

_I tried to make it go away._

_But I only made things worse._

_Was that my fault?_

_"Of course not." Mac reached out his arm and, for a moment, Adam could almost swear that he felt the man's fingers brush his face. They were cool, and oddly soothing._

_"Time to sleep," his boss said._

_But I thought..._

_"Don't worry. I'll be here when you wake."_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Then...**

"Adam has a serious problem," Lindsay marvelled, gazing around his apartment. Sheldon gave a chuckle.

"I wouldn't tell him about it. You'll make him even more paranoid than he already is."

They glanced at each other in sudden dismay. Neither one voiced their thought, but then, they really didn't need to.

For a young man's bachelor pad, Adam's place was almost unbearably tidy. Everything had its place, and was clearly intended to stay there. Even the magazines on his coffee table looked as though he had used a ruler to place them at perfect angles.

Sheldon picked up the smart new sketch pad that sat on a nearby desk. Unlike his decorating style, Adam's drawings were fluid and strangely moving. The first few pages were filled with sharply observed sketches of his colleagues - drawn from memory, and clearly very recent. As he opened the book, the doctor was startled to see his own face staring back at him eagerly. On the next page, Danny and Lindsay leaned over the light table, sharing a joke together. Stella was captured in profile, thoughtful and elegant. Don had a look that Sheldon knew all too well - his 'science expression', the doctor liked to call it. He guessed that Adam would have been on the receiving end many times. Most telling of all was the portrait of Mac - caught in a rare, unguarded moment of humour, his eyes full of mischief and a half-formed grin upon his face. Sheldon chuckled. Adam always seemed so wary of his boss - and yet, it seemed, he saw far more clearly than they ever gave him credit for. Moving onwards through the book, Hawkes beckoned to Lindsay. The mood of Adam's artwork began to change now, as random scenes of abandoned hotels and houses shared each page with Leyla's eager face. Sometimes, there were other faces too - an older woman, and another child. Like Leyla, and yet not alike.

"I think this may be Alice," Sheldon mused.

"Who's the woman?"

"She resembles Adam - wouldn't you say? His mother, maybe?"

Lindsay peered over her colleague's shoulder, and flinched. "That's such a strange look on her face. I really hope you're wrong."

Tearing themselves away from the drawings at last, they browsed through bookshelves full of textbooks, ranged according to size, and ran their eyes down the neat stack of games that lay beside his console. Wandering into Adam's bedroom, Lindsay was surprised to find the bed unmade and the curtains tightly drawn. On the chest of drawers sat a jewellery box - incongruous in such a male apartment. She opened it idly - and tilted her head in fascination as the eerie tune began to play. A piece of folded paper sprang up on top of the random pile of beads and baubles. Lifting it out with careful fingers, Lindsay opened it up.

"Sheldon," she called out softly. The doctor slipped into the room.

"Come and see this," she smiled.

They bent their heads together, studying the map.

"Camelot." Lindsay's throat grew tight. "Oh, Adam."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Several streets away, in a far less appealing neighbourhood, Don Flack stood in a dirty corridor, covering his nose and mouth in disgust.

"Wh't _is_ th't smell?" he exclaimed, in strangled tones. Danny grinned, unfazed.

"I think it's cabbage," he said. "And maybe... some kinda stew?"

"It's an affront to the name of food, that's what it is," gasped Don. He lifted his hand away gingerly. "How can you not be insulted by that?"

"I'm tough," said Danny, beating his chest.

"You're a philistine," Flack accused him.

"This from the guy whose favourite food is steak. At least I've got a sense of adventure."

"Hey - I know what I like," the detective said smugly. He gazed around. "And I _don't_ like the feel of this place."

"I'm with you there, buddy." Danny rapped on the door, and together they waited. When it opened, they looked down... and down, trying to conceal their surprise.

The lady standing before them was tiny. Her face was a wrinkled peach stone and her hair stood out around it in a halo of soft white fluff. Her eyes, on the other hand, were pure flint. She glared up at the two of them, full of distrust.

"Good morning, ma'am," said Don, uncertainly.

Under her breath, the old woman cursed. The word was Welsh, and it sounded rather like _diafol_. Gaelic aside, Don had never been much of a linguist, but then he didn't really need to be. Her meaning was perfectly clear. "And a pleasure to meet you too," he continued, as Danny chuckled softly behind his back. "Mrs. Maddox?"

"That would be me," she told him archly. "What is it that you are wanting, _plismon_?"

"How did you know?" asked Danny, flashing his badge unnecessarily.

The woman tilted her head to stare round Don and looked the second man straight in the eye. "Obvious, isn't it? You're not friends of Owen, that much I know. So, unless you're encyclopedia salesmen, what else would you be doing, here at my door?"

"Actually, it's Owen we're here to see. Can we come in?" asked Don, struggling to keep his mouth from twitching. Something about this little old lady appealed to him. Her directness was refreshing, if a little rude. _Give me fifty years or so, and I'll probably be just the same,_ smirked the detective.

"What're you grinning at, _twyllo_?" she challenged him. "That's 'fool', to you," she added, winking at Danny.

"Oh, I like her," Don cried, out loud.

Mrs. Maddox smiled.

"Very well, boys," she told them. "Owen's in his room. What's this about? I'd really like to know before I drag him out by his ear."

They followed her into a well-kept apartment, spotlessly clean and filled with porcelain knick-knacks. "I dust them every day," she told Danny, proudly, as his eyes wandered over the crowded, shining collection. Tiny white faces stared back at him. _Creepy,_ he thought. _Thank goodness the girls prefer flowers._ "Keeps my fingers nimble, see?"

He nodded, not really sure what else to say. It seemed as though the woman had taken rather a shine to him - and he didn't know what to do with that. Don coughed deliberately.

"Owen's in a spot of trouble. Maybe you know that already? Mrs. Maddox, do you own a gun?"

"I do." She frowned. "For protection, nothing more. This is a dangerous neighbourhood. It's locked in my bedroom cabinet."

"Erm - I think you'll find it isn't," Danny suggested. "Right now, it's stuck in an evidence box, back at the crime lab. Sorry."

Cursing in a rapid, musical flow, the old lady hobbled through a nearby doorway with frightening speed. They followed her nervously. "_Lleidr_!" she spat, as the drawer jerked open, revealing nothing more than an empty space. "Thief! Owennnn!"

Through the bedroom wall, there was a heavy thump, followed by silence. Clearly, someone had just fallen out of bed. Don stared at Danny with an evil grin, and together they ranged themselves on either side of Owen's door. It was even labelled for them - 'Owen's Room', with a lovely picture of a baby cherub.

"Ahh, how sweet," said Danny, under his breath. "One... two..."

Before he had time to finish, however, Mrs. Maddox shuffled past him and flung the door wide open with her bony little hand. "Owen David Maddox, you come out of here right now!" she screamed.

In the gloom of the young man's bedroom, a hulking figure rose uncertainly.

"What is it, Nana?" he asked, trying to sound innocent.

"You know damn well," she insisted. Before their bewildered eyes, she reached up and pinched her grandson's earlobe.

"I _really_ like her," Don said. Danny nodded.

"We could do with a few more like her working for us. Can you imagine? Crime'd be down in no time."

Mrs. Maddox thrust Owen into their waiting hands, with a slap on the back of his head for good measure. "Thank you, ma'am," said Flack. He smiled at Owen. "We've got some questions for you about a certain gun that's in our possession right now. Perhaps you'd like to answer them back at the precinct?"

"Please," gasped the young man, flinching away from his grandmother as she clenched her knobbly fists.

"Arrest him," she suggested. "He's always up to no good. _Ewch allan!_ Get out, you useless boy. I wash my hands of you. Playing gangs and making trouble. Now you'll see what happens - and good luck to you. Thank you, _plismon_," the tiny woman added, winking at Danny. "I think you just made my day."

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**A/N:** Don and Danny. Love 'em.

By the way, I'll admit it - I got my Welsh from Google Translate. So, if there are any mistakes, I apologise. Mrs. Maddox just popped into my head last night, and she wouldn't go away. I hope you liked her. The boys certainly did...

Major thanks must go to Myriad13 for part of this chapter. I loved her suggestion so much that (with her permission) I adapted Adam's artwork to include images of the team. Perhaps they are his first attempts to recapture his skill, before he becomes more obsessed with drawing Leyla and her environment.

Oh, and - Mahala? Sorry about the Kleenex. Again. I'm a happy person really. Honest!


	18. Chapter 18

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Eighteen**

_**Now...**_

_Faces._

_An endless stream._

_Melting from one to the next._

_He let them flow past him, marvelling at their number._

_"Adam..." they whispered. "Where are you...?"_

_I'm here, he tried to reply. But still no words came._

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**Then...**

Maddox perched on the wooden chair, his massive bulk making it seem like the classroom seat of an infant. The look on his face was childish too; the scowl of a bully whose reign is at an end. Don smirked at him openly.

"Owen David Maddox," he sighed. "Embarrassing, that; being shopped by your grandmother. Quite a character, by the way. Clearly you don't take after her."

Maddox's scowl grew deeper as he tried to work out if this was an insult.

Danny laid down a picture of the gun.

"You've got a bigger problem than Granny," he informed the young man. "Turns out, this gun can be linked to several petty crimes in your neighbourhood. I emphasize the word 'petty'," he added, leaning forwards and jabbing the picture sharply, "because they're so dumb. Robbing a newstand. Firing at billboards. Threatening little old ladies and stealing their handbags. I think your gran would be proud of _that_ one - don't you?"

"Ask me," said Don, "that's gang initiation stuff. _Your _gang, in fact. The - what was it, Danno?"

"The Harpies." Danny chuckled. "Harpies are female, Owen. Even I know that."

"I thought they were just monsters." The man's voice was sullen.

"Yes - well, thinking isn't your strong point, is it?" Don circled round him, making his head spin. "Neither is chivalry." When Maddox looked blank, he continued. "Attacking little girls. With a gun. In the middle of the night? What kind of messed-up crime is that?"

"I never." Owen's face turned white. "What little girl? That's stupid."

"Yes. It is." Don shook his head. "Red curls. Green eyes. White face. Remember, Owen?"

"No," the poor man insisted. "And I never had the gun, not last night. I passed it on. To Duncan - it was his turn. Ask him!"

"We will - if you tell us who he is."

Owen flinched, as he saw his dilemma. Give up his friend, or sacrifice himself.

No contest.

"Jack Duncan. I don't know where he lives, but he's always around. Tall guy, red hair, skinny. Wears a hoodie."

"Great description," Danny's voice dripped with sarcasm as he applauded. "Thanks, man. Book him, Flack."

"Wait - hey! For what?"

"For the theft of a gun. From your grandmother, stupid."

Maddox shook his head in dismay. On the other side of the glass, Mac turned to Stella. "Jack Duncan. Red hair. Green eyes. Do you think...?"

She nodded. "I think we need to find him. If Leyla has an older brother, that could explain a lot. Maybe he saw her with Adam, and got the wrong idea. Mac, he could be the stalker. He's been trying to protect his sister..."

"Question is, how far did he take it?" Mac's face was grim.

"I'll put out a BOLO," said Stella.

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The girl who returned to the precinct was a sullen, red-eyed shadow of her former confident self. Her clothes were neat, her face was scrubbed and her hair had been wrenched back out of her face with such vigour that it made Mac's eyes water. Gone was the curl, and the bounce, and the strength of character. He watched her slouch down into her chair, and his heart ached for the child. How would he ever reach her now? Persuasion was unlikely to work. Facts were all that he had - and so Mac began his quiet campaign, hoping that, little by little, he could bring Leyla out of herself.

Placing a printed photograph on the table, he looked down at it. "This is Alice," he said, as if to himself. "Adam's sister. She died when he was seven."

Leyla played with the hem of her borrowed sweater.

Next, Mac set down a page from Adam's sketchbook.

"I think she looks like you," he said.

Interested in spite of herself, Leyla's green eyes wandered across the table. She gave a tiny gasp when she saw the drawing. Her face, against a backdrop of abandoned buildings. Staring up at Mac, she pressed her lips together mutely.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I want to go home," she muttered, glancing back down at the picture.

Mac kept silent, watching her.

"How did Alice die?" she asked, at last.

The detective considered how to respond to this. Should he sugar-coat his answer? Or trade it, for a question of his own? In the end, he opted for the truth; straightforward and simple. "She was hit by a car."

"My mom was driving."

"What?"

Leyla shrugged. "When she died. My mom was driving a car. It wasn't her fault, dad said."

"I see." Watching her eyes slide across to the photograph, Mac continued to let her lead the way.

"Adam misses Alice. But I'm his sister now."

"That's kind." Mac's face was thoughtful. This girl cared about Adam deeply; that much was clear. "Did he tell you the stories?"

"Stories?" Leyla's eyes grew bright - and then suspicious. "You said you didn't know. Who told you?"

"Adam did," said Mac. And he laid down a folded piece of paper, brown with age and worn by years of delicate handling. Pushing it forwards, he motioned for Leyla to look at it. With careful fingers, she unwrapped the folds - and Camelot was revealed.

Leyla stared at the map for quite some time without saying a word. Mac felt as though he ought to be holding his breath. This was such an unusual interview. No felons to glare at, no witnesses to persuade. Just a lost little girl, with too many secrets. For once, Mac found himself wishing that he could be more like Adam. Insatiably curious, and full of shy compassion. Eager - maybe a little too much, but why should that be wrong? Gentle, and yet stronger than they ever could have guessed. Leyla had seen it straight away.

"Thank you," said Mac, at last.

"For what?" She lifted her eyes, surprised.

"For making us look deeper into his life. Adam's friends, I mean. Where is he, Leyla?"

She laid her finger down on a bright green island. "Avalon," she said.

Mac felt cold. "Avalon?" A place removed from the world... "Is he hurt? Or..." He couldn't bring himself to say it. Not to the child.

"He's safe."

"And Jack? Where is he?" Trusting to instinct, Mac dropped the name in casually. Leyla shook her head

"I don't know." Her face looked troubled. "He ran away."

"Why were you struggling with him last night?"

"I didn't want him to use it."

"You mean the gun?"

"Yes." She bent her head and flushed. It felt like such a childish fear, but the strength of it made her shudder, even now. Leyla's voice was barely audible as she continued. "I was afraid that, if he did, he'd turn into a monster. Just like them."

"How did you know about it?"

"Adam told me. And then I saw it too."

Her shoulders trembled and a single tear ran down her cheek, dropping to stain the over-large sweater. Mac raised his eyes to the glass and gave a meaningful stare, knowing that Stella was watching on the other side.

_Adam, and Jack. _

_And the gun..._

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"You think Jack took him?" Stella gazed back through the window at the girl, who was tucking into a plate of sandwiches.

"I think it's looking more and more likely."

"What did she mean, he's in Avalon?"

"It's a legend. The place where they took King Arthur when he was wounded in battle. A magical sanctuary, but also a kind of living death. Adam's been telling her stories, Stella. Maybe this is her way of making sense of what's happened. He could be hurt. Or worse..."

"She said he was safe." Stella's voice was firm. "And I believed her. You did well, Mac. She's opening up at last."

He shook his head, bewildered. "She's just a child. This is wrong. Why is she living on the streets, all alone?"

"Not alone. She has her brother."

"Then where is he?" Mac didn't look impressed. "How could he abandon her like that, with two strange men? Jack didn't know we were cops, Stella. We could have hurt her. Or worse."

Stella laid her hand on his arm. "We'll find him," she offered.

"We already have," grinned Don Flack, catching the end of their conversation as he came up behind them stealthily.

They stared at him, speechless.

"The poor guy was trawling precincts in Brooklyn, trying to find the girl. Apparently, he hung around in the shadows and heard what we said to her - every word. He even caught our names. Mac and Don. It took him a while, but the BOLO helped. A local desk clerk finally made the connection and sent him on to us. Escorted, of course."

"Politely?" asked Mac.

"Not so much," Don replied with a nonchalant air. "So - do you want to meet him?"

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**A/N**: For all your generous reviews after the last chapter - thank you! I had such fun writing it - I'm glad you enjoyed it too.


	19. Chapter 19

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Nineteen**

_**Now...**_

_Pain was stalking him._

_A red hot monster, with claws like needles, angry and relentless._

_Adam shrank back - but the faces were there, in front of him. He hid behind them gratefully._

_And the monster passed by._

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**Then...**

"Where is she?" Jack pleaded, switching his gaze from Don to Stella, and back again.

"Who's that?" Don asked, unimpressed.

"My sister. Leyla. You brought her here. I saw you, and that other man. The gun isn't hers, you know. She was trying to protect me. I... I panicked, that's all. I didn't mean to run away..."

"Shame on you," said Stella, accusingly. "Letting a little girl - your _sister_ - fight your battles for you."

"She didn't... That's not..." The young man's voice shuddered into silence. His face was full of guilt, and despair. "You've got no idea."

"Then tell us." Don stared into Jack's frightened green eyes. _So like Leyla. _He wondered just how old this kid was. Sixteen, maybe? Or younger...

Jack leaned back in his chair. "There's nothing to tell..." he muttered.

"Oh, great. Not you as well," sighed Flack. "Guess your family isn't big on sharing, huh? Thing is, Jackie-boy, this isn't just about the two of you. A friend of ours is missing, and we think you know something about that. So, I'm tellin' you now. You'll be talking, if I have to drag the words from your scrawny throat..."

Stella shook her head. "I'd listen to him, if I were you," she advised.

The young man blanched. "I don't understand what you mean. The only person missing was Leyla, and now I've found her. Why can't I just take her home?"

"Home. That's an interesting concept." Don frowned. "Where exactly might that be?"

Once again, the boy fell silent.

"Please," said Stella. "Talk to us. We just want to understand. If there's an explanation for all of this, then now is the time, Jack. Don't let things get so out of hand that you can't fix them. Leyla needs you. That much is clear. Why else would she try to take the gun away from you? She was saving your soul... Do you know that?"

"I do." Jack's voice was small. "We look out for each other. That's how it has to be."

"Why?" asked Stella. Don kept quiet, recognising that Jack had begun to respond to his passionate colleague. Beauty - one. Beast - nil. Grinning quietly, he fell back and observed their conversation from the shadows.

Jack took a deep breath. "Okay," he said, at last. "But please - just let me get it out. It's not easy to say. In fact, I've never told anyone before..."

"I'm listening." Stella folded her hands before her, the picture of serenity. "Go on, Jack."

The boy closed his eyes and reached for the words.

"Leyla was ten when it happened," he began. "I was fourteen. Mom used to work in a store - real late shifts. 'Dad pays the rent', she always said, 'and I make life worth living'. She'd bring home treats if she was very late. Books for Leyla, and comics for me. But then, one night... well, she never came home." Jack's voice tailed off for a couple of minutes. Stella waited patiently. At last, the boy felt able to continue. "Dad said the guy fell asleep at the wheel. Mom never knew what hit her. Or how hard..." The rhythm of his story was hypnotic. Don was transfixed, and Stella's eyes were troubled. "After the... when everyone else had gone back to their lives, Dad changed. He just... I guess he couldn't cope without Mom. We argued..." There was a world of meaning behind that phrase. "In the end, he threw me out. That left him and Leyla."

"Did he hurt her?" Stella asked gently.

"No - of course not. He loved her. That wasn't it..." Jack stumbled. "It's so hard to explain."

"Take your time," suggested Don, making them jump. Jack nodded.

"For a couple of months, I stayed away, like he said. I moved from one friend's house to another. Their parents were all really kind. But I missed Leyla. So, one night, I went back to see her." He took a deep breath. "I climbed up to her window and knocked. I could see her lying in bed. But she wouldn't wake up. That's when I took out my knife and prised it open." He flushed. "The room was mine, before. There's a trick, you see..." Catching Don's tiny smile, Jack pushed onwards, feeling reassured. "I shook her and shook her. She still didn't wake up. I tried to go and get my dad - but when I went to open her door, it was locked. From the other side." He frowned in sudden anger. "Her _father_ had locked her in."

There was silence in the room. Then Stella ventured a question.

"Why was Leyla so sound asleep?"

Jack looked back at the woman.

"Because he'd drugged her. I broke through the door, and ran down into the kitchen. There on the counter, I saw it. The bottle of pills. _His _pills, to make him sleep. He'd given them to her, and locked her in, to keep her safe so that he could go drinking. There were empty glasses everywhere, stinking of whisky, and the house looked like a junkyard." Jack clenched his fists. "That was it. I went upstairs, packed a bag with her favourite things, and carried her out of there. We never went back..."

"Where did you go?"

"To the city," said Jack. "I wanted to hide her away. I... I took the bottle of pills as well, just in case. She'd been on them for so long that she couldn't sleep without them at first. But I got her off them, little by little. I undid the damage _he'd_ done. We found an empty hotel, and set up home there. I... I found a way to get money. I pretended I was sixteen. People in New York aren't always fussy about who they hire to do the dirty jobs."

Stella nodded sympathetically. Don walked slowly to his chair and sat down.

"Which hotel?" he asked.

"It's called The Avalon. On Hanson Street. There's a gang that meets there, every night. They're friends of mine - sort of. That's where I got the gun. I'm so sorry about that," he added, mournfully. "Maddox said I had to prove my loyalty. He was tired of me acting like I was better than them. I was supposed to rob a bodega. But I didn't. Leyla saw the gun, and she stopped me. That's when you found us... her, I mean."

But Stella had stopped listening. "The Avalon?" she gasped. "Are you sure?"

"Y-yes..." Jack stared in shock as the woman's composure broke completely. She fled the room, leaving two bewildered faces in her wake.


	20. Chapter 20

**HAUNTED**

**Chapter Twenty**

_**Now...**_

_Peace._

_Adam slept._

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**Then...**

New York city at night always held a strange kind of fascination for Mac. Its beauty was the wealth of human life that moved within it, darkness and light, co-existing. From the comfort of the Avalanche, he watched the world roll by like a movie, marvelling at the infinite cast of characters on display.

How many people out there were as lost as the little girl who sat beside him?

Leyla stared through the window in a trance. To her, the streets were a dazzling kaleidoscope. Her lips were parted, and she caught her breath at each new sight. Mac smiled to see the things that moved her. A lady in a silver dress. A sparkling window, full of Christmas magic. A young girl holding her mother's hand as they skipped together along the sidewalk. Leyla raised her hand to the window, fingertips resting on the glass - but the intimate scene was gone in the blink of an eye.

"You miss her," said Mac.

Leyla turned around. She was fighting back tears, but he pretended not to notice.

"What do you remember most about her?" he asked quietly. In the driver's seat, Stella kept one eye on the road, but she couldn't help glancing into the mirror at the mis-matched pair, both so solemn as they stared at one another. Jack sat next to her, lost in thought, cooling his forehead on the darkened glass of the passenger window.

"Roses," said the girl at last. "She had flowers everywhere. And perfume. We always gave her some at Christmas time - didn't we, Jack?"

When her brother didn't answer, Mac continued. "And your father?"

"He tried to keep me safe." She gazed at him, wide-eyed.

"By locking you up?"

"Like a princess, fast asleep. The world is a dangerous place," said Leyla, solemnly. In front of her, Jack shook his head in a gesture of silent anger and disbelief.

"And Adam?"

She shrugged. "I have to look after him. That's why I followed him home every night. He's my only friend. What if something happened to him?"

"You're so stupid!" Jack turned on his sister, glaring through the gap in the seats. She bristled.

"I saved you both. I took your gun away, and I let Adam sleep. He was so tired..."

The boy looked horrified. "You didn't... Don't tell me you gave him those as well?"

"Gave him what?" asked Stella, full of foreboding.

"The sleeping tablets. How many?" Jack demanded. Leyla shrank back into her seat and leaned against Mac for protection.

"Just five," she whispered. "I got them from your room. And I mashed them into a muffin. He couldn't sleep, Jack. Just like me. I wanted to help him..."

"You didn't, though - did you?" The boy's voice was low, and fierce. "He's been locked up all night and all day, with no food or water, stuck in the darkness. Very helpful..."

Leyla gasped in horror. "I never... I only wanted... He's my friend!"

"Of course he is," said Mac, taking her shoulders. "Anyone can see that." He frowned at Jack, who looked away, ashamed. Full of distress, Leyla wrenched back out of his grasp and sank down into silence. The journey continued, tense and uncomfortable. Finally, Stella turned into Hanson Street and drew up in front of the Avalon Hotel. Don's car pulled up behind her, followed by an ambulance - just in case.

Climbing out of the Avalanche, Mac waited for Leyla to come round and stand beside him. "I'm so sorry," he sighed, glancing up at the worn-out name. "You told me where he was - but I didn't understand. Sometimes, adults know too much. The answer was simple, all along."

Accepting his apology, Leyla took Mac's hand. "This way," she said. Jack and Stella followed close behind, with Don and the paramedics bringing up the rear.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_**Now...**_

_"Open your eyes..."_

_The voice was loud, and persistent. Adam raised a weary hand and flapped at his ear. "Go away, Mac," he croaked. "I'm trying to sleep."_

_A disbelieving snort came from somewhere behind him. "You gotta be kidding me."_

_Adam prised one eye open with an effort. Bright light assaulted him, painful after hours of unrelenting darkness. Reaching out, his hand came into contact with something soft, and warm._

_An arm. Not imagined, but real._

_"Mac...?"_

_"We can leave you here if you want," his boss said, full of relieved delight._

_"No!" A second blue eye joined the first, blinking fiercely. "Mac... Is that really you?"_

_"Of course. Who else would I be?"_

_Adam's muddled brain tried and failed to answer that. Pushing up on one elbow, he groaned dramatically. "My head..." Nausea overwhelmed him, and he flopped back down on his side. Mac winced, seeing the blood that was matted in his curly hair. He waved a paramedic into the room and started to rise, but before he could do so, Adam clutched his sleeve once more._

_"How long have you been here?"_

_"Just a couple of minutes. Why?"_

_"I... never mind, boss." Smiling a secret smile, Adam let his grip relax. Within seconds, he had drifted back to sleep._

_"He's going to be just fine," grinned Mac as he stepped out of the room, relaying the news to Stella, who stood well back in the corridor with Jack beside her and Leyla clinging to her waist. Moving her torchlight out of his eyes, the woman let it rest on the door instead, and the words written neatly in pen._

_'Adam's Room'._

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_Noises, all around him._

_This time, when Adam opened his eyes, he didn't really understand where he was, at first. Gazing around in fear and doubt, he looked for the one thing he hoped to see - and there it was, right beside him._

_Mac's face._

_His real face._

_Fast asleep._

_Adam giggled softly._

_As the hospital room came into focus properly, he lay back against his pillow and stared at his boss with undisguised fascination - the only chance he would ever have to do so. His bright gaze followed the curve of Mac's jaw and the lines etched deep into his skin by care, and conviction. Even in sleep, the man frowned, ever so slightly. Adam smiled._

_"Thank you," he whispered. "For helping me."_

_Mac muttered something unintelligible. Sensing Adam's eyes upon him, he clawed his way back to consciousness. The lab rat blinked, and wondered if it was quite the done thing to be caught staring frankly at your boss while he slept._

_Too late now, I suppose, he thought. "Hello, boss. You must have been tired. Feeling better?"_

_"Shouldn't I be the one asking that?"_

_"What... me? I'm fine..." Adam's croaky voice petered out, as Mac pinned him down with a sharp-eyed look._

_"You had us worried, you know."_

_Adam's jaw dropped. "Worried? Us who? I mean, which..?"_

_"Your colleagues. The ones you should have turned to."_

_"I tried," said Adam. The phrase echoed softly in his head. "Not hard enough, I know. I'm sorry," he added, blushing. Mac looked aghast._

_"Adam. Don't apologise."_

_"But it's true. You're my friends, and I should have trusted you. I brought this on myself." He stared at the bedspread, and his twisting fingers. Mac reached out and stilled the man's hands with his own._

_"This was nobody's fault. Not Leyla's; not yours. You acted kindly - that's not a crime. And we should have paid more attention. I'm your boss, Adam. I should have seen that something was wrong. I suspected it - but I left you alone to deal with it by yourself and, for that, I'm sorry."_

_Adam looked up once more and shook his head. "You found me," he breathed - and the gratitude behind his words was almost overwhelming. "How did you do that, by the way?" he added, full of curiosity._

_Happy to see this glimpse of the old familiar Adam Ross, Mac hid his mirth behind a deadpan expression._

_"About that," he said. "We owe you another apology. For going through your apartment - and your sketchbook. Nice pictures, by the way..."_

_Adam's expression was indescribable._

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_For the next few hours, he drifted in and out of comfortable sleep. No dreams haunted him, and no memories threatened to spoil his peace. Adam had a sneaking suspicion that medication had something to do with this - but he also knew that his time in the darkness had changed him, deep inside. For that, he was grateful. And so, when Leyla appeared at his door with a hesitant look in her eyes, he gave her a welcoming smile that made her whole face light up._

_"There you are," he said. "I was wondering when you'd come and see me."_

_"I thought you'd be mad." She bit her lip._

_"What for?" Adam stared at her gravely. "Mac told me why you did it. And why you followed me."_

_"To keep you safe," whispered Leyla._

_"And here I am," her friend replied. "Safe, and sound. And happy." He took her hand. "You helped me, Leyla. I wish I could help you, too."_

_"I'm okay." The young girl gripped his fingers tightly. "Detective Taylor has promised to speak to a judge for us. He's going to make sure that Jack gets custody when he's old enough. I guess... I can cope with being in foster care 'til then. If..." She paused._

_"If what?"_

_"If you'll visit me? Like Jack?"_

_"Of course I will." Adam frowned. "Aren't you my sister too?"_

_Flushing with relief that he should remember her offer, Leyla fumbled in her pocket and brought out a folded piece of paper._

_"I drew you a picture," she said._

_Adam took it from her hand and opened it carefully, laying it down across his knees as they stared at it together. Four people, side by side, holding hands. The girl ran her finger over the group, chanting their names, one by one._

_"Jack... and Leyla... and Adam... and Alice..."_

_The young man closed his eyes. For a moment, he had no words._

_"Don't you like it?" Leyla asked him, with a tremor in her voice._

_He shook his head, still speechless. She tried to pull the drawing away, but he laid his hand down over the paper, catching her fingers too._

_"Thank you," he managed, finally. "For the best gift anyone ever gave me."_

_Leyla's smile was an image of pure delight._

_**The End**_

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**A/N:** And that's it. Hope you liked the ending! Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read/follow/favourite this story, and above all to those people who posted such generous reviews, or sent me PMs, and kept me going! You're amazing! I loved your comments and your ideas. You also let me know that the mystery was working the way I wanted it to - hard to tell all by myself, as I knew what was going to happen!

There'll be another fic along in a week or so. I've got the general idea in my head. I just need to sort out the plot and get a couple of chapters written. See you then? I hope so...

Smuffly.


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